


Collision

by itjustkindahappened



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Norse Religion & Lore, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (i guess), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bottom Louis, Dark!Harry, Fairy!Louis, Grimm Fairytales - Freeform, Love/Hate, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Top Harry, Wonderland, World Travel, eventually, i've put a warning in the notes on that chapter so u can be prepared/avoid it if u want, regarding the warning: there is one scene with fairly descriptive violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 192,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itjustkindahappened/pseuds/itjustkindahappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.</p><p>(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a thing that i've been working on. 
> 
> this is the prologue, and it's here because this story is quite a complicated concept and there are some things that you need to already know when the actual plot starts.
> 
> please bear with me. i will try to post a new chapter wednesday/thursday every week. and i hope you enjoy xx.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

When Louis is 13 years old, humanly speaking, his mother sits him down and tells him about the world.

She takes him aside after he is done bathing in the rippling spring stream with a couple of other elves and fairies. It’s a wonderful day, really, wind clear and soft with sunshine and warmth, gently stroking Louis’ honey tinted skin and nipping at his sensitive wings.

Louis likes spring a lot. He likes the way everything seem to be bursting with colors, eager after being held down by the cold winter for so long. He likes the way the other elves and fairies’ eyes turn brighter with enthusiasm and their cheeks turn the color of cherry blossoms when the snow melts away. He likes the way the waterfalls and chirping birds sound in the evening tranquility.

He also especially likes to come with to the human forest on the other side of the hole in the big oak tree and play pranks on gullible humans. But that one he doesn’t really speak loudly of in front of the grown creatures.

It is this oak tree, that his mother and he sits under when she explains how their world, our world works. Or rather, _worlds_. How our worlds work.

“There are not only us and the humans,” she tells him. “The nymphs and the elves, the fairies and the pixies, the trolls and the goblins, all the good and all the bad creatures in this forest, we are not the only kind apart from human beings.”

And Louis is unsurprisingly quite confused, seeing as he’s never met or even heard of anything else, so his mother smiles gently at his furrowed brows, and continues speaking in a melodic voice.

Louis learns that there are different creatures which are assigned different jobs.

Firstly, there are the Gods; the Gods of Olympus, the Gods of Asgard, and the Gods of Rome – but that’s quite a mouthful, so we just call them the Three. They all thought they were alone on their grounds, that they were the only ones in the universe and that they held all the power possibly attainable. When these three suddenly were tired of being alone and wanted to extend their powers and create a new world, and realized there were other forces right around the corner with the same abilities and wants, things went a little overboard.

Louis’ mother gestures vividly as she tells the story of the big war in the beginning of Time; the time where they had yet not served the title as Gods. She spoke about how there were three different powers from three different worlds with the same excessively short tempers and intense want of ruling, and how as the leaders for their own people, Jupiter, Zeus and Odin saw no other way than to fight for their entitlement to create life.

So they did. They fought, and they slaughtered, and they wounded. It was a time where even Day and Night stopped occurring to hide away from the viciousness below, making the warriors lose the concept of time. They never even stopped to sleep, or to eat, and they did not even realize they were slowly killing _themselves_ , rather than each other.

The two out of three who later proved to put an end to the war, were Eirene from Olympus and Pax from Rome. The two of them shared the opinion that war and violence were nothing but awful things, and from that, combined with their intelligent minds, they found a mutual understanding in one another. They also knew that they had to stop this, because if somebody didn’t, it would never end.

Eirene and Pax then went to find Idun, a beautiful and kind-hearted goddess from Asgard who was the custodian of Asgard’s Tree of Golden Apples, in search for a way to stop the war. Idun, who was more than happy to help, told them about a place called Mímir’s Well in her part of the world. She insisted they hurry to get there, because unlike the Olympians and the Romans, the gods of Asgard can not only die from murder, but also from age, and time was quickly running out.

Mímir’s Well was a place that, for unknowing souls, was in the easiest way explained as the Well of Wisdom. It was said that if you drank the water from that well, you would be the holder of all the wisdom in the world. Idun meant that if they could get the leaders of the Three to drink this, they would surely come to their senses and declare peace.

There was only one catch; you see, Mímir’s Well wasn’t a free trade, it wanted something in return. To be exact, it wanted the eye of Asgard’s leader.

So what Eirene, Idun and Pax decided to do, was to call Night back to guard the warriors for them during their journey. When Night arrived again, everyone on the battlefield immediately fell into the deepest slumber, just now realizing their absolute exhaustion. The three goddesses tip toed their way over to the sleeping Odin, assuring that there was in fact nothing that could wake him up. When they considered the coast clear, they opened Odin’s eyelid, and they carefully pulled the eye out from its spot. They then succeeded with bringing it with them all the way to Mímir’s Well, offering it for a filled horn of the powerful water, they brought the water back, and proceeded to pour some in the mouths of Zeus, Odin and Jupiter.

And as expected, when they all woke up, the leaders of the Three did not want to fight anymore, for they realized how pointless it was, their refreshed and open minds filled with ways of how they could make it work by cooperating.

After this, Idun became a symbol for both youth and knowledge, Eirene and Pax were appointed as the goddesses of peace in Olympian and Roman worlds, and the three of them had the worlds’ greatest gratitude.

And so, Earth was made. The Three decided to split Earth by the two countries that would later be called Greece and Italy between the Olympians and the Romans. These places were also named the origins of the two Godly worlds. Zeus and Jupiter were assigned heaven and earth, Poseidon and Neptune were assigned the waters, and Hades and Pluto were assigned the underworld.

They didn’t want the humans to possess the powers of magic, as they were afraid it would make them too powerful. Instead, they made another world they called the Village of Grimm where fairytales would be made, and where magic was allowed because even if the Earthlings couldn’t _do_ magic, they would still have to _believe_ in it, because that’s how magic works. Grimm became the property of the Gods of Asgard, and as did Wonderland, where the human’s imaginations and dreams would be made. They also split the Greek, the Roman and the Norse godly empires into separate worlds, so they wouldn’t have to share the space anymore and avoid conflicts.

Louis listens with wide eyes and chin resting in his palms. It’s like a bunch of fictional stories, he thinks. A bunch of adventure tales about heroes and wars and missions, and he’s so fascinated by it.

“But what are we?” he can’t help but wonder when his mother is done talking about the Gods.

“We are helpers of all of the Three, but we belong to the Gods of Asgard. We keep nature clean and blooming, we help the seasons change in Grimm’s Village and, if necessary, northern parts of the human world. We are myths on Earth and welcomed workers and visitors in the village of Grimm. This oak,” she nods to the tree by them, “is a portal to Grimm. This is where you'll go when you start working in only a little while. There is a similar one far on the other side of this forest that leads to Earth.”

“But... can’t we go to the other worlds? Aside from Grimm and Earth?”

“Well. Yes, I suppose so,” Mother looks hesitant. “But portals to other places than the ones we are meant to travel to causes mostly nothing but trouble. They only go one way, you see; when you’ve gone from one portal to the other world, you can’t go back through the same one. You’d have to go and search for the next.”

She pauses for the words to sink in, and Louis understands this is a caution; he is not supposed to look up any other portals. He won’t, he swears. He might like pranks and games, but if his mother tells him something is dangerous, he listens.

“Besides,” Mother continues. “There are few worlds that are supposed to go to more places than their own; humans mustn’t go anywhere. Not the ones in Grimm, not the ones on Earth. The ones in Wonderland are supposed to stay as well, and the Gods of the Three don't leave their empires very often, either. It’s their helpers who do all of that. The souls of emotions and nature and such. Like us.”

“But mother, why have we never been to Earth? If we have a portal and we’re supposed to go there, why don’t we?”

“We also have certain restrains, Louis; us living in this part of the forest, we are assigned Village of Grimm, not Earth. Every helper’s body has a way of adjusting to our environment to prevent us from causing problems in places we don't belong in. And do you remember what Earth does not have?”

Louis nods. His mother confirms his thoughts.

“Earth doesn’t have magic. The only magical thing they have, are the portals, and those are impossible for a human to ever find. The creatures born in the Earth part of this forest, the creatures that are meant to help Earth, they are the ones who can still go there and remain magical. You and I, cannot. As soon as we’d go through that portal, we would take a human form, and we would stay so until we go back here. We only function, Louis, in places that hold magic. Without it we are useless.”

Louis has to admit; this is a lot to take in. And he’s quite disappointed, honestly, to know that there seem to be no way to meet any other creatures than the ones in the forest, and the humans of Grimm.

Louis would much rather spend time with someone from Wonderland, or Olympus. He wants to learn more, he wants to know and talk and listen, he doesn’t want his mother’s stories to end and he finds himself, to his surprise, desperate to achieve this knowledge in some way.

“Is there really no way to meet… Creatures, you know, from the other places?” he asks tentatively, biting his lower lip hopefully.

His mother is quiet for a moment, before she replies.

“There is one.”

And Louis’ face instantly shines up like a thousand suns, wings fluttering excitedly.

“Oh, please tell me! How? Where? Could I…?”

“There’s a school for helpers, University of the Three, and it’s built like an Earthly college. It’s a meeting place for all of the Three’s creatures that have connections to Earth or Grimm and are lusting for more global knowledge about each other and the humans they are to help and serve. Although it is voluntary. Many prefer to just stay where they are.”

 _Many_ , in Louis opinion, are fools.

“Oh _mother_! You have to let me go! When can I go? Can I go soon?”

His mother laughs and ruffles his hair.

“You are still too young, Louis. But if you so desire, you may go there when the time comes.”

Louis lifts a couple of feet above the ground, that’s how happily his wings are fluttering.

“Thank you so much, Mother! Thank you a thousand times, I love you!”

 

~

 

When Louis returns to the stream, he’s got a smirk on his face that says _I know something you don’t_ , and he’s never wanted anything more during his existence, than go to University of the Three.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make me smile :D
> 
> also if you want to be a beautiful, lovely soul you could always find me at my tumblr @a-bit-extraordilarry. i am extremely lonely on there and i will literally love you forever if you talk to me.


	2. chapter 1; university of the three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

University of the Three is big, old and luxurious looking. Big lawns stretch out around the large buildings and the concrete paths, the head building has a huge, marble staircase and a majestic, heavy door that reaches at least ten feet from the ground. The students are out and about making connections, older seeing friends again and wide eyed younger creatures getting used to the whole thought of going to a human-inspired college, and everything is so big and new and buzzing and unfamiliar it’s overwhelming.

And Louis is completely in love.

It actually still feels unreal for him, if he’s honest; he’s been waiting and longing for what feels like all his life--done a quite lot of bragging, too)--for this very moment, right here. On the clean pavement running between the road and the university, about to take his first step onto school ground as a legitimate student.

So he does. He lifts his tiny, bare foot, takes a deep breath, and brushes his toes against the tickling grass a little before putting it down. He does the same thing with the other, and he giggles a little from the feeling because _he’s doing this_. He’s attending University of the Three. He’s a UoT student.

He follows a couple of nymphs that also seem new and starry eyed, speaking to each other in high pitched and smooth voices. Louis knows they’re nymphs, because his mother has told him numerous times about them, the tall, charming and gracious creatures from the Greek who are assigned helping forests and nature, just like himself. Or, like. Just the helping nature part, obviously. Not the other parts. Although Louis does consider himself quite charming, if he’s allowed to say so himself. Cute as hell, to be honest. It's the tall graciousness he's having a tiny bit of a problem with.

He’s getting off the subject.

He quietly walks behind them along with a growing mass of other creatures (Louis is behind a tall nymph and in front of a highly intimidating creature he's never heard of with fangs and pale skin, and he, like many times before, wishes he were a little bit taller than his approximate five feet) all the way to the dorms.

Louis doesn’t know if he should happily skip away to his own dorm or drag his feet and bite his nails on the way. His roommate could be anyone. They could be a deadly creature from one of the Underworlds. They could be a cunning soul from the Sea or a patronizing spirit from the Above. Louis doesn’t know.

For the first time since he arrived, Louis feels a little insecure and, frankly, a little bit scared. He takes his time walking up the stairs, even though he knows he’d be up in no time if he just used his wings. His pointy ears are on guard and his petite hands are rubbing together in a hesitant manner.

When he reaches room number 204, he takes a deep breath. He fumbles with the key a little, fishing it out of the pocket of his rolled up, worn out pants and presses it into the keyhole.

There’s a light clicking sound as he turns the key. When he swings the door open he at first doesn’t see anyone and he thinks maybe he's the first one to arrive--but then a shadow appears from the bed in the left corner, and Louis’ supposed roommate slowly approaches him.

It’s a short little creature, with small and slightly asymmetric horns grown out of his head, and when Louis looks further down, he discovers the legs are covered in dark, tousled hair, and they end in hooves rather than feet.

Louis’ roommate is a faun. Louis is almost blacking out with relief.

“Hi,” he offers as he steps into the room, curiously looking around and getting accustomed to his home for the coming time. He then fully turns to the faun, shooting him a bright smile. “I’m Louis.”

“Stan,” the faun introduces himself, answering Louis' beam with a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. “You’re a… Fairy? Right?”

Louis nods. “I am. Congrats on getting it right, the lady in the reception called me an elf, which, I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered. Have you seen an elf? They’re so tall and graceful.” He stops himself, realizing he’s let himself go again, and his cheeks turn a bashful pink. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m excited. You’re a faun.” It’s not a question. “And may I just say I’m so happy to have a friend my height in this place. I have yet to find someone that’s not like seven feet tall or incredibly intimidating.”

This earns a little laugh to leave Stan’s mouth.

“God, I know, right? I was so scared you’d be a vampire or something. We got to stick together, us little folks.”

Louis decides he likes him. Which is good, because liking your roommate is probably a huge advantage when attending university, he likes to think. He’s at least got one friend in this place.

Louis learns that Stan is from the Romans, and his job is to lead lost humans back on the right path. At first Louis thinks it’s a metaphor for something deep, but he then learns that Stan’s job is literally leading humans gone lost in the woods back out. Which is also nice if a little anticlimactic. Stan is nice enough, though, alike Louis in many ways except maybe a little bit more cautious and quiet about things. But hey, Louis can work with that.

Everything does, over all, look like it’s going to turn out just fine, and Louis is very content.

 

~

 

The first day of college, Louis is up before dawn, sitting on the window sill and watching the sky turn from the color of overripe blueberries to the color of freshly picked apricots, as the rim of the sun grows more glowingly apparent in the horizon by the minute. It’s a habit of his, rising with the sun. It makes him feel like he’s a part of something big, something better and significant. He likes to sit in a treetop or on the rocks by the river and wonder if the sun is rising at this minute somewhere else, too. If someone is sitting in another world right at this moment, unknowingly watching it with him. If someone is currently helping the sun rise and shine, if that is someone’s job.

The rays of light are tinting everything in gold, making the trees and buildings cast dark shadows over the school ground as they slowly wake everything up. The wind starts pulling at blooming branches and dewy grass, tugging as if scared to be violent. Louis has great respect for the wind. Out of all the creatures and spirits and natural forces he’s been working with, wind must be working the hardest. Because fairies, pixies and elves are many enough for one to rest now and then, just like the other creatures in the forest, Day rests at night and Night rests during day, and water is actually just a lazy fluid with god complex who has other forces do the moving it around for it because it’s superior and “necessary for the surviving of life” or something. (Louis occasionally forgives water for this as it _is_ very nice to bathe once in a while.)

But see, wind never really stops, does it? It’s always whooshing somewhere. Despite feelings or circumstances, it’s always going.

Louis thinks that’s admirable.

When the sun is halfway up, Stan stirs awake to the sight of Louis appreciating nature by the open window and offers him a low “g’morning” as to which Louis answers;

“There’s nothing more beautiful than nature during sunrise. I’m positive.”

“Nice. Could you get down from there, though? We’re six floors up.”

“I have wings, silly. Nothing will happen.”

Louis does climb down at the request, though, because he’s a good person, and he sits down in bed.

“So what time is it?”

Stan throws a quick glance at the clock perched above the door. “It’s 6.30.”

“Perfect.” Louis smiles and entwines his fingers behind his head, lying down. “I just love mornings, don’t you?”

Stan agrees absent-mindedly, pulling out a dark t-shirt from one of the drawers in the corner by the end of the bed over his head. Louis frowns confusedly when he sees it.

“I didn’t think fauns wore human clothes.”

Stan snorts. “They do now, and so do fairies. We’re in a human developed environment, clothes are required.”

“But I can’t wear _shirts_.” Louis protests. “My wings will be in the way. That’s ridiculous.”

Stan just shakes his head amusedly and pulls on a pair of jeans.

“Do you honestly think they haven't taken that into consideration?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.

(Louis tries a simple white t-shirt on with a scoff. The t-shirt flows through his wings and fits around his small waist as if they aren’t even there. It almost scares him a little. Stan laughs. Louis pouts.)

 

~

 

It’s in Greek History class Louis makes his second friend. Her name is Eleanor, and she’s beautiful like moonlight during December.

It’s kind of funny, actually, because Louis nearly trips them both on her dress. That’s that. That’s how they meet.

It’s not like Louis can help it though, right, because he is preoccupied with analyzing the majestic paintings on the walls and Eleanor is walking in front of him with her dress genuinely dragging behind her on the marble floor, and Louis is not watching his feet, and so he steps on the silky fabric just as she’s moving, and he lets out a tiny yelp before almost falling on his ass in front of the whole room. Eleanor’s eyes widen and she stumbles a few steps before regaining her balance, looking back to glare at Louis.

Louis’ hand flies up to his mouth immediately.

“Oh God,” he says. “I’m so terribly distracted today. I didn’t ruin your dress, right? Or did I? Please tell me I didn’t. It’s lovely, the dress. It’s very lovely.”

The elegant girl’s eyes soften a little at the sight of the winged boy’s distress.

“I’m sorry,” Louis tries again when she doesn’t answer.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s all good. I don’t even think you got it dirty.”

Louis sighs so deeply he almost runs out of air with relief, and pushes his fringe out of his face.

“Great. I. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Hey, should we go get seats?”

Eleanor smiles and introduces herself when Louis looks in surprise at her. Louis tells her his name as well, and they sit down in the middle of the room.

Louis learns very quickly that Eleanor must be big deal, because people widen their eyes when they look her way, whispering to their friends and slowing the flow of people down to get a proper look.

“So… What, um. What are you?” Louis asks lightly, trying to hide his curiosity behind his puffed chest. He’s slightly intimidated by the looks, even if he knows they aren’t for him. He feels small again.

“Oh. I’m Ouriana’s daughter. You know, the muse?”

“The muse of astronomy?” Louis clarifies, jaw going slack.

Eleanor laughs a little. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Wow. I mean. Wow. That’s big.”

“It does earn you a bit of extra respect,” Eleanor shrugs and grins.

Yes. Louis likes this one. He’s keeping her.

“I can only imagine,” he sighs wistfully. “You try being a five foot tall fairy and see how many people take you seriously.”

Eleanor giggles. “Well, at least you’re likeable. Pity the ones who don’t even have that.”

They banter a little back and forth until the teacher enters the classroom and starts the lesson, to which Louis instantly centers all of his attention on the words coming from her. He is determined to make a good impression on his first day.

It helps a lot that Greek history is, in fact, very interesting as well; full of intrigues and drama, and Louis is deeply engrossed in the many tales. The main focus this early on is Zeus and Hera, though, and Louis has to say he does think they seem like a pretty terrible pairing.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but what kind of love is that?” Louis whispers to Eleanor while reading on in his book afterwards. “Zeus is unfaithful numerous times, Hera is incredibly jealous and vengeful, they argue all the time over everything _and_ they’re extremely violent. What’s this supposed to represent?”

“The strength and importance of marriage,” Eleanor answers simply.

Louis frowns. “What kind of strength does marriage have if it’s not a happy one? Doesn’t that just make both counterparts miserable?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. It makes very little sense to me as well, but that’s what they’ve told me since I was a child.” Eleanor shrugs. “Gods are prejudiced creatures. Very dramatic, the lot of them. Controlled by only emotions. Except Eirene and her friends and helpers, maybe. And the muses. They’re nice.”

It’s so weird talking about these things with Eleanor, Louis thinks – he means, sure, his mother knows _about_ the Gods and Goddesses of Olympus, but Eleanor, she–-she _knows_ them. Zeus is her grandfather. That’s almost incomprehensible.

“What about love? Love is sensible, right? Nice and comforting. Isn’t the Goddess of love sensible?” That would make sense to Louis. If there is anything he thinks purer than crystal and summer breezes, it's love.

Eleanor snorts and shakes her head, though, so he might be wrong.

“Aphrodite? Sensible? I wouldn’t think so. She’s terribly self-conceited. Beautiful and mesmerizing, sure, but she’s very vain and not romantically attached to anyone, ironically enough. Zeus, when Aphrodite first came to be, got her married to Hephaestus--this insufferably boring and ugly God because he was intimidated by her beauty and wanted to tie her down. She was so displeased she had affairs with tons of other Gods, and humans for that matter, to get revenge. Which I'm not exactly holding against her because what they did was awful, but you get the picture. She really doesn’t represent the romance, her son Eros does that part. She’s just the passion and sex.”

Louis frowns. “They’re pretty cruel, aren’t they? And one-dimensional?”

Eleanor smiles and shakes her head. “They are, don’t get me wrong. But they are defined by the things they represent. They don’t have anything else to make them stand out. They become their most prominent trait. It’s not their fault. And besides,” she looks down at her book again. “It’s not like humankind are less cruel or violent.”

“…No?” Louis bites his lip. “I don’t – aren’t they?”

Eleanor looks straight back up again, her eyes both concerned and amused at the same time.

“Oh, love. You haven’t seen anything beyond those forests, have you?”

Louis opens his mouth to answer, but then class is dismissed and the muffled sound of closing books and turning pages are mixed with the twittering voices of students. Which is probably good, because Louis isn’t sure what he’d say. He hasn’t, is the thing. He hasn’t seen the humans in any other environment than his own. And as he looks at Eleanor who talks like she’s seen it all, he feels quite ashamed of the fact.

Eleanor just smiles again as she collect her things and pushes a strand of wavy hair behind her ear.

“You’re alright, Louis. I’ll see you around, right?”

“Yeah, course.” Louis nods. “Who knows, maybe I could use a majestic figure to earn some authority around here.”

The smile of her lips turns into a playful grin. “Maybe I could use someone short and oblivious walking next to me to underline my already existing authority.”

Louis laughs a little, soft and high pitched like ringing bells. “Sounds like we’re even.”

They part ways when getting out in the hallway, and Louis dives into the masses of people, purposely smashing his wings into the ones refusing to move out of his way. It’s terribly amusing watching them stumble and angrily look around for the cause, faltering when they see Louis’ innocent smile.

No one is willing to hurt a little fairy. You get away with absolutely everything. Being him has its perks sometimes.

 

~

 

Stan is starstruck by Eleanor’s presence from the moment they meet, and Louis finds it hilarious.

The two of them would make quite the interesting love story, to think of it. Judging by the way Stan is looking at their new friend, he’s already making a rough draft in his head.

The three of them quickly become friends, though, and it’s great because they’re all from different worlds and know different things and have different ways to view situations and circumstances, so discussions are never boring. They make a good team.

Eleanor knows a lot more than both Louis and Stan, though, having been around the most important Olympic Gods and all that fancy people, and she’s eager to tell them all about the escapades of Olympus. She tells them about working with her mother, mapping out stars and helping astronomers with their work. She tells them all about the different Gods and Goddesses, about the muses and growing up around that kind of creative outburst. She’s noticeably more interested in the female creatures, which Louis thinks is fine because they overall sound like the wiser ones, anyway.

“Then we have Eris,” Eleanor continues. “And she’s Harmonia’s opposite. While Harmonia is the goddess of, you know, harmony and concord, Eris is the goddess of chaos. There’s nothing she enjoys more than creating disputes between both Gods and humans, but as long as you’re not rude, she probably won’t do anything because she'll most likely just consider you a waste of her time. Unless she’s in a mood or something, of course. But it’s really her children you should watch out for.”

“Children?” Louis asks. Stan just nods, expression dreamy and Louis suspects he’s barely properly listening. Probably busy counting Eleanor’s eyelashes.

“They’re many, but very… Secluded, I guess. All are spirits representing grief, oblivion, starvation, lies, that kind of stuff. Basically every negative feeling ever felt. They all live with her in Tartaros, and no sane person ever goes there except the unlucky souls who have no choice. I’ve only met two of them, I’ve met Ponos and,” she suddenly purses her lips and she looks almost hostile. It’s an emotion that doesn’t suit her pure features, and Louis is immediately more interested than he’s been the entire time. “Well.”

“What?” he pushes, trying to hold back a bit of his eagerness.

“I met Harry once. Harry Styles, he wants to be called. He’s this one spirit, the only male spirit of Algos, and he’s Eris’ favorite offspring. Probably because his main job, and pleasure, in life is to hurt people. He’s ruthless, really.”

“Doesn’t sound like the kind of person you’d hang out with?” Louis breathes.

“He’s _not_ ,” Eleanor wrinkles her nose in disgust. “He goes to this school. He’s getting such a special treatment it’s insane. I mean, his sisters barely even have names, but he just told Eris he wanted one and he got one. Just like he told her he wanted to go here. She let him without a doubt, and no one can tell him no because this place is supposed to be open to _anyone_ that wants to come and learn. Only he doesn’t want to learn. He want to rub the balance and cause everyone general distress.”

“Wow.” Louis rubs his right eye and raises both eyebrows. “Is he really that bad?”

“Oh yeah, Harry’s scary.” Stan opens his mouth for the first time since Eleanor started talking. “I have Human Anatomy with him. The teacher almost cried at the end of the last class.”

Eleanor looks pointedly at Louis and nods in Stan’s direction as if to say “ _see_?”

He’s slightly ashamed to admit it, but her hostile reaction by the mere mention of this spirit kind of just adds to Louis’ curiosity. It’s a thing with Louis. He just needs to know everything. He sucks up knowledge and experience like a sponge. And he’s never met a creature who’s even remotely this bad before. The closest he’s gotten is Nøkken, and he’s only dangerous to humans. He’s just kind of quiet and unhappy when he’s around his sort. Louis and the other fairies like to try and cheer him up. It works sometimes.

So it’s not that weird, his attraction to the subject. Louis wants to meet this guy. Louis wants to know who he is and what his motives are. Louis wants to know what drives a bad spirit to be bad.

He figures Eleanor might know a few of these things and might be able to give him a bit more, if slightly biased but still, information.

“Why is he bad, though?” Louis asks.

Eleanor blinks. “Louis. _Algo_ means _pain_ in Greek. He’s literally created just to cause pain. He doesn’t have a _reason_ for being malicious; it’s his nature.”

“But he must have,” Louis pushes. “Bad souls always have an experience or motive that makes them bad, right? You’re not _born_ bad.”

“You’re adorable, Louis, really. You’re so pure.” Eleanor looks serious. “But I know this guy. He’d make your life a joyless _abyss_ , just because he’d find it hilarious to.”

“I don’t believe that.” Louis frowns stubbornly. “Look, you’re not born an evil soul. You wouldn’t _choose_ to cause people pain, would you?”

Eleanor groans. “Louis. I don’t know how to put this so you’ll understand. Harry was birthed by Eris. Eris is the Goddess of chaos. Eris’ children are solely made to help Eris in her assigned mission to create arguments, misfortune and pain to her surroundings. Harry is a spirit of _pain._ He was born to cause pain, he was born to _enjoy_ causing pain, he was _born to enjoy something that makes him a wicked soul and he does enjoy it_. He’s a devious creature.”

 _“Fine,_ I get it.” Louis looks down on his hands, playing a little with his small fingers. “I just think that’s a very unfair way to think, don’t you? What if he’s actually decent, you know?”

Eleanor sighs resignedly and runs a delicate hand through her hair, and Stan answers in her place.

“Honestly Louis, he calls himself Harry _Styles_. I’d assume he was a prick no matter what creature he was. Besides, you haven’t even met him,” he says. “It’s a nice thought but it doesn’t apply to him. Sorry.”

Louis snaps his head up and narrows his eyes at the tone of his friend’s voice. Stan doesn’t sound tired or defensive, he sounds _condescending_. He sounds like he thinks Louis is childish, and when Louis moves his eyes over to Eleanor, he can see her eyes agreeing with the faun.

And suddenly, Louis is _angry._ It just bubbles up under his skin, sudden and hot and unexpected, and he doesn’t even bother holding it back, he doesn’t think he has a reason to hold it back.

He might be small and kind, but he’s not a child. He’s not doing anything wrong by believing the best about people.

“Actually,” he says icily. He can feel his wings’ fluttering pick up speed. “You’re just making me really curious.”

Stan looks at him alarmingly, obviously now very aware he's set something off. “Louis – “

“I should find out more about him. I should go look after him.”

“ _Louis_.”

“I should ask him myself.”

“I swear to –“

“I am. I am going to look for him right now. This instant. I’m doing this.”

Eleanor and Stan exchanges looks. Louis knows what they must think, _silly baby throwing a temper tantrum_ , and he puffs his chest out to demonstrate his superiority. He’s so above them. He’s so above their condescension. They’re not even that important.

He raises from where he was previously sitting on Eleanor’s bed, giving both of his friends a pointed look each.

“I’m leaving now.”

Eleanor almost amused at this point, which makes Louis clench his fists so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Okay. You do that.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“Great. I’ll say hi from you.”

“Please do.”

Louis just huffs before strutting out the door, coldly leaving his two alleged friends behind to consider their wrongful actions.

This is a good idea. This is him making a statement. This is Louis standing up for himself.

This is a good idea. It really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is the first real chapter!! yayy!! 
> 
> next one will be up either wednesday or thursday next week depending on when i'll have the time.
> 
> (also friendly reminder that my tumblr is a-bit-extraordilarry and interaction with others make my entire week okay thank u)


	3. chapter 2; university of the three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

Okay, so maybe Louis hasn’t thought this through properly.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his cause anymore; he’s still determined to find out what’s so insufferably terrible about this guy.

It’s just that, Louis has absolutely no idea where to look. He doesn’t know where this soul, where Harry, would choose to spend his free time. He doesn’t know if Harry has friends. He doesn’t know if he’s secretive or open, if he sits in his dorm and ignores the environment or if he’s out socializing.

After a while of aimless walking around campus, Louis knows he has to ask someone. Which would be mildly humiliating.

How would he even do that? _Hey, so there’s this creature called Harry that I’ve never met, never seen and not heard of before this afternoon. Do you know where he might be_?

Louis cringes at the thought.

Maybe he could treat it as a joke. _Haha, would you believe it, right, I just lost a bet to my friends and now I have to go find this someone called Harry Styles. Do you know who that is?_

Is that a thing you can do? Would that be acceptable?

Louis doesn’t know.

There aren’t a lot of people out right now and more are disappearing inside by the minute, so Louis knows he has to act quickly.

It’s like ripping off a band aid, he thinks.

Not that he’d know what that feels like, it’s a phrase he’d heard a human use once. But he guesses it’s supposed to mean that something’s quick and harmless. Hopefully.

With his mind still racing unintelligibly, he aims for a centauress sitting calmly under a tree by the main marble steps. She looks agreeable enough.

Louis clears his throat to get her attention, and she stops combing her platinum blonde hair with her fingers for a moment to look at him.

“Hi,” Louis says, and he can feel his cheeks going uncomfortably hot. “Sorry if I’m disturbing, but… You don’t happen to know where Harry Styles is, do you?”

She frowns. “Why would someone like you want to have anything to do with Harry?”

“Um.” Louis looks down on his bare feet. “It’s – it’s nothing. A stupid bet. You know? And I’ve never seen him or anything, and I- I thought maybe you have?”

Well, that’s just the smoothest he’s ever been. Really, congratulations, Louis. She'll definitely be able to look past your breakable appearance when you blush like a hedge of roses and stutter worse than a suffocating pigeon.

“Oh, hun.” She looks at Louis with concern, and yeah, Louis hates being a fairy. Screw all the advantages with being one, he wants to be a scary giant. He wants to be an incubus. He wants to be a fierce dragon. He wants to be something that makes people look up at him with respect and preferably slight fear, not something that makes people look down on him as if he’s a fragile little autumn leaf.

“Do yourself a favor and turn around, yeah?” she continues, anxious wrinkle between her eyebrows visible and making Louis go positively insane. “Go back to where you came from and tell your friends that they’re terrible souls. This is not something you should do.”

 _I’m not a little child! I’m not a little child! I’m_ not _a little child!_

“Yes, it is,” Louis replies firmly. “I really need to do this.”

“Look, Harry is not a good soul. He’s not someone you want knowing who you are. Especially not you.”

“My _Odin_ , I’m not made of glass!” Louis exclaims, throwing his hands up to emphasize his frustration. “Do you know where he is or not?”

The blonde centauress looks at him for a few seconds with pursed lips, considering if this is a good idea. It’s probably not. But Louis is by now desperate to prove that he’s just as tough as anyone else in this place, and he looks as pleadingly as he can at her.

Then she sighs and shakes her head. “He usually hangs around the back of the head building. He’s probably not alone, though. He’s got his crowd of admirers, and they’re usually not very nice. Please be careful.”

Louis exhales with a thankful smile. “Thank you so much. Really, thank you. I owe you.”

And then he’s off as fast as he can. He’s even hovering a few inches above the ground as he’s not even capable of controlling his wings in his eagerness to prove himself.

He hears voices very soon, and he understands they must be there. The tones are hushed and rough, snickering, and it’s almost sending shivers down Louis’ spine.

He’s not stupid. Louis knows by now that this could be dangerous, so instead of marching out there in all his pride and glory, he opts for sneaking a peek first, hidden by the corner of the building. It's always an advantage to know what exactly you're getting yourself into, and at the moment, Louis does not.

They’re all sitting in the grass. It’s not a huge amount of creatures, Louis counts them to about seven, and he finds himself a little relieved. At least Harry hasn’t gotten himself an army of devious misfits. That would actually scare Louis off a bit. There’s a difference between being brave and being out of your mind.

Now. Which one is Harry?

Louis studies each creature closely, looking for every single detail that might be important to identify who he’s looking for.

There are lots of hybrids. One girl has got the torso of a human, but where her legs should be, she instead has a long, serpentine tail. The scales are shimmering in the sunlight, matching the moss green leaves above her. The creature next to her Louis’ seen once before. It’s the one with the fangs and the pale skin who had been walking behind him on his first day. Louis knows now that he’s a vryolaka, a vampire.

(A part of him wonders what these creatures could possibly contribute to the universes, what they do that make them count as helpers of any kind. He makes a mental note to look that up later.)

He spots a couple of male centaurs as well as a couple of what looks like Valkyries, and then his eyes fall onto a boy.

Louis vaguely remembers telling Stan that there’s nothing more beautiful than nature during sunrise. He kind of wants to take it back.

The creature has a sharp jawline and wide eyes; his lips are red like cherries and his skin is the piano key kind of smooth ivory. Louis watches as the wind pulls the curly locks on his head, and he thinks of ripe chestnuts.

He would’ve mistaken the creature for a human, expect it is actually impossible for a human to maintain that kind of physical perfection. That, and the black, curving spiral marks running up and down his bare arms.

Louis has understood by now that those black tattoos must be a sign of being a spirit of some sort from the Romans or Olympians, since the spirits he knows has got blue ones. He doesn’t know if that’s what happens when you enter a host body, or if it’s just a sign that you are not actually of flesh and blood, he's only certain they're a sign of spiritual attributes. Do spirits have their own bodies? Is that a thing they can do, shift between flesh and bones and a breeze against skin? Louis doesn’t really know a lot about spirits.

Except that they’re gorgeous, apparently.

Minutes pass, and Louis just stands there. He’s almost more intimidated by the spirit’s beauty than his deterrent reputation, which, maybe he should make a reevaluation of his priorities, but. It’s not until now he realizes his next obstacle; what in the _worlds_ is he going to tell the creatures out on the grass?

It’s one thing to ask the centauress for help. This is a completely different matter.

What was he thinking, honestly? Is he supposed to walk up to Harry, say hi and walk back? Should he bow? Should he ask questions? What kind of stupid questions would those be?

Fairies may be a lot of things, but they’re not the brightest of creatures, Louis notes sadly and cusses himself out for his thoughtless actions.

Maybe he should just turn around now. He can lie. He can do that. He can tell Eleanor and Stan that the two of them had a civilized and calm conversation to prove his friends wrong and himself right, and then no one'll ever bring this up again.

Louis sneaks one last glance at the beautiful spirit, preparing to swiftly turn around and tip toe his way back unnoticed.

It doesn’t exactly go as planned.

Just as he’s going to lean back and head off, the vampire lifts his head and looks straight into Louis’s eyes all the way into his soul, and all Louis can do for seconds is just to stare back, petrified with fear.

And then the vampire starts laughing. He laughs, and it’s horrible, and he nudges Harry with his elbow, pointing to where Louis is standing.

 _No. No, no, no_ –

Harry furrows his eyebrows confusedly at first, and then he looks in the direction the vampire points.

Their eyes lock for just a second, and Louis’ widen in fear and Harry’s narrow in interest, red lips parting in a teasing smirk and Louis knows he’s screwed.

With a panicked hiss he flinches away from the place he’s standing on, turning on his heel and flying away as fast as he can. His cheeks are hot and rosy with humiliation and he does his best to flee in the speed of light back all the way to his and Stan’s dorm. The wings on his back are fluttering desperately, turning into nothing but a blur of silver and light in his rushed attempt.

He actually doesn’t even enter the building; he finds their opened window and flies in that way, landing face first onto his made bed with a groan.

His nose is hurting, and he sits up in a swift motion to assure everything’s fine. He does like his nose. It’s a very important facial feature and he quite likes the way it’s so delicate and little. He’s seen the trolls, okay, and he doesn’t like to be rude, but he’d probably actually rather die than have that kind of swelled up _scrotum_ taking up half of his face.

Stan is lying on his bed with his hands behind his neck, amusedly watching his friend and roommate calm down from his distress, and Louis doesn’t even notice. He’s way too caught up in the adrenaline and embarrassment, until –

“So I take it you found him, then?”

Louis winces in surprise, turning his wide eyes to the faun.

“Oh. Hi there.” He puffs out his chest, crossing his arms over it and puts his chin up. Position accomplished. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Stan’s smile annoys Louis. “And you were previously flying for your life because…?”

Louis blinks a couple of times, trying to think of an appropriate retort. “I wasn’t! And certainly not because someone hurt me, that’s for sure. I was just… Seeing how fast I could go.”

“Oh.” Stan nods excessively. “I see.”

“Sod off,” the fairy mutters, looking down on his crossed ankles. “I am right and you are wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Stan disregards. “Really though, what happened?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Louis sighs then, freeing his arms to play with his fingers.

“I didn’t actually talk to him. I saw him, I did. But I didn’t actually, you know. Interact. Verbally.”

“Okay, so… Why the fleeing?” Stan’s brow is furrowed.

“Well…” Louis shifts uncomfortably and scratches his neck. He’s refusing to look at his friend. “He kind of saw me too? Behind the corner of the building? Watching him?”

Stan widens his eyes, and then a laugh is nipping at the corners of his mouth. Louis hates him.       “Oh, man. I am so sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Louis mutters, and he doesn’t even need to look at his friend to know that Stan’s smile has widened.

“He didn’t do anything, though?”

“Nope. Just saw me creeping. I left before something could be done.”

Stan shakes his head in amused disbelief. “This is too great.”

“Please don’t tell Eleanor,” Louis hisses pleadingly. “Please. She’ll never, ever let it slide. This must stay between you and me. Promise you won’t tell.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

“You don’t sound all that convincing.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “I won’t tell on you. She’ll probably find out anyway.”

That might be true. Not that Louis is ready to admit anything.

Honestly, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Louis little trip hadn’t scared him off at all; rather, he was even more intrigued by the spirit of pain than before.

 

~

 

During the weekend, Stan goes home. This is not a problem at first. It’s normal, really. There are one way portals to every world in the basement of the head building, one room for each entrance. It’s quite the process with signed papers and supervision, but it’s normal. You know. It’s all good. Louis and Eleanor are just fine on their own, too. None of that turns his trip home into a problem.

It turns into a problem the following Monday at lunch, when he’s still not back and the public announcement reaches Louis and Eleanor during lunch.

The portals are _broken_.

Apparently, this very morning, the janitor had been cleaning the corridor by the portal rooms, and in the process been disturbed in his peace by a violent banging on three of the doors.

Turns out when he opened to see what the fuss was about, that about ten people per room that were certainly not supposed to be at the university, was in fact there. All of them came from different worlds. All of them were confused. Half of them were mildly terrified. None of them were students.

This has happened in every world, random creatures from the most unexpected places landing in Olympus when they were going to Earth and Wonderland when they were going to Asgard. None of the portals are suddenly reliable. At the moment, they can lead anywhere and everywhere, and if you go through a two-way one to one place, your destination could still be one of a one-way portal. Basically, no one is safe.

This has never, ever happened before.

All Eleanor and Louis can do as they listen to the shocking news is to stare at each other, horrified.

“Oh my God,” Eleanor whispers, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth.

Louis kind of wants to do the same. He’s currently hovering about two inches above his chair in distress. “He could be _anywhere_.”

“He could be trapped in the underworld or something,” Eleanor whimpers. “He could be trapped in _Tartaros_. Oh my God.”

It’s a bit of a catastrophe, really. No one is suddenly allowed to leave school, and everyone’s ordered to, after finishing lunch, go straight back to the dorm building and stay there for the rest of the day, while staff are called to a meeting to decide what to do with the portals and the creatures coming from them. Under no circumstances are students allowed down to any of the portal rooms.

Most students match Eleanor and Louis’ reaction. The cafeteria is filled with horrified looks and gasping conversations, worried glances and upset gestures.

And then, in the middle of it all, sits Harry, and he just looks _smug_.

Louis frowns and nudges Eleanor’s side to get her attention. When she looks at him, he points to the curly haired spirit by the table not too far away from theirs’.

Eleanor quickly understands what she’s supposed to see, and her eyes narrow.

“I promise you he has something to do with this. I could bet my existence that he knows exactly why the portals are malfunctioned.”

“Are you really sure he’s powerful enough to shut down the entire World traveling system?” Louis is doubtful. That’s not something a student could do. That must be hard enough for a God to accomplish.

“No,” Eleanor snorts. “He’s not. But his mother, the _Goddess of chaos_ , certainly is.”

Louis quietens. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He bites his lip.

The two watch Harry again, watch him lean back on his chair with a satisfied smirk, crossing his arms as he looks at the creatures around his table eagerly discuss what might has happened. When the snake girl turns to him to say something, he just licks his lips, tugging on the bottom one with white teeth and says something that makes his dimples deepen impossibly.

Louis sighs wistfully. “He’s stupidly attractive,” he thinks out loud.

Eleanor snaps her head in Louis’ direction, looking at him as if he’s just offended her mother. “ _What_?”

Louis flinches and looks at her innocently, biting his thumbnail. “Um. I mean. It’s not like. Look, I’m just objectively stating a fact. It’s in my nature to appreciate aesthetically pleasing things.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, _come on_. He’s attractive. So are you. So am I. It’s no big deal.”

Eleanor’s face is stern. “It better not be. Never trust beautiful creatures from the Underworld. _Ever_. They are assigned their looks just to give a false sense of reliability.”

“Isn’t that kind of unfair to – “

“ _Ever_.”

Louis considers protesting and making an argument out of it, but decides against it. They don’t need that right now.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever.” He settles for rolling his eyes and swallowing a forkful of pasta to underline that he’s not open for a continuation of the discussion.

Eleanor doesn’t seem to be either, so they’re good. She also picks up her fork and starts eating, a worried wrinkle between her eyebrows. Louis understands her. His hands are slightly shaking when he thinks of what his other friend could be going through right now.

He hopes Stan is okay. He hopes Stan got to go somewhere nice. To his home, or Louis’, maybe. They’re friendly in the Forest. He hopes with all his heart Stan’s not stuck on Earth. That could lead to complications. Or Tartaros, like Eleanor said. He’s heard nothing but awful things about that place.

In the end he’s bitten down all of his nails, rather than the food on his plate.

 

~

 

It’s terribly boring, this loneliness.

Louis is currently sitting on his bed in his dorm, trying to study. Everything’s quiet except the occasional scrape of his pen against paper. He doesn’t get much done. His mind is too caught up in everything else. Neither he nor Eleanor has really been the same after the announcement, thoughts clouded with confusion and worry for their friend.

Although when Louis looked at Eleanor earlier that day, he suspected her distress might be worry for someone a bit more to her than a friend. He makes a mental note to ask her about it at a better time.

He’s almost done with his ecology homework (which he does find quite interesting) when he hears sounds in the hallway outside.

Louis frowns; no one’s supposed to be out right now. Unless it’s the teachers or other staff, of course, but he doubts they’d be running around here when they have so many other issues to deal with at the moment.

Rushing footsteps come closer, followed by voices. Screaming, actually. Someone’s shouting to _give it back, please, please give it back_ and all Louis can hear as a response is a snicker. Louis contemplates going out there and telling whoever it is to give back whatever it is he’s taken to whoever it is who needs it. But he’s too scared to get into trouble himself, so he sits quietly on his bed and listens with concern to the happenings outside his door.

There are more pleads, alternating between hopeless and angry, and the other person doesn’t say anything; just laughs menacingly now and then to mock the poor guy.

And then all of sudden there’s a furious shout that makes Louis fly up to the ceiling, there’s a whooshing noise and a loud thud on the floor outside, and then there’s a person standing _inside Louis’ room_.

The creature is standing pressed to the wall beside the door, holding a hand to his mouth to suppress his laughter. The person still in the hallway is knocking and banging on the door, furiously telling him to come back out. The unwelcomed guest doesn’t answer.

Louis slowly lowers himself from the corner of the ceiling to get a closer look at who’s succeeded with entering his dorm when the door is in fact, locked, and when he recognizes the head of fuzzy curls, he can’t help but letting out a;

“What on _Earth_.”

The banging on the door has momentarily stopped, and Harry snaps his head up to see where the statement came from.

When he sees Louis hovering a few feet above his bed, he first tilts his head with a puzzled expression, knitting his eyebrows together.

Then something changes, and the corners of his mouth are dragged into a sly smile. “ _Hey_.”

Louis does not answer the smile. Rather, he just carefully lowers himself to the floor with a sceptic narrow of his eyes. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I _know_ you,” Harry says delightedly, completely ignoring Louis’ question. “You’re the one who was spying on me a couple of days ago, aren’t you?”

Louis’ feels his whole face flush and his spine stiffens. “No I’m not.”

“By the back of the head building, right? How long did you stand there, really?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Harry continues to ignore his attempts at denial. He makes a clicking noise with his tongue, taking a step forward. “Don’t think I could forget such a pretty face.”

Louis blinks. “I – I’m not. I mean. I don’t. What?”

Harry dimples smugly at him. “You’re adorable, really.”

Louis clears his throat, trying to get out of this state of fluster and concentrate on why this spirit is in his room. “How did you – what were you doing out there?”

“Oh,” Harry raises his eyebrows nonchalantly. “Just playing around a little. Having a bit of fun.”

He’s holding something behind his back.

“What are you holding behind your back?”

The glint in Harry’s eyes is mischievous, almost in a cunning way. “It’s a cane.”

He holds it out for Louis to see. It is a cane, he’s not lying – although Louis recognizes it. It belongs to a dwarf in his genetics class. A dwarf who only has one leg. A dwarf who needs the cane to be able to walk.

Louis eyes widen, appalled. “That’s – that’s Camron’s. Camron needs that.”

Harry nonchalantly strokes his long fingers up and down the dark, polished wood. “I guess.”

“That’s _awful_.” Louis is full on frowning now, voice blatantly taken back by the malice in Harry’s actions. “Why would you do that?”

He gets a shrug and a smirk. “Why not?”

Louis’ mouth falls open in something that’s very close to disgust. “Because Camron needs that thing! The poor guy’s only got one leg, for crying out loud. Don’t you think he’s suffered enough already?”

Harry pouts his lips. They are the color of overripe raspberries. He doesn’t look bothered at all by Louis’ words, and Louis is slowly starting to question his previous judgment on this guy.

“The question is rather, who decides what ‘enough suffering’ is?” he figures, seemingly not even talking to Louis. “Is there such a thing?”

Louis’ eyebrows are so forcefully knitted together he might start worrying they’d grow into each other. “ _Yes_. There is such a thing.”

He cocks a hip out and puts his hand on it, giving Harry his best authoritative look. “Go out there and give it back to him.”

Harry stares at him for a moment. Eyes him up and down. Apparently understanding that Louis is serious.

And then he starts laughing. It’s deep and raspy and taunting, and Louis doesn’t like it one bit. Because Harry’s laughing _at_ him. He’s making fun of Louis and if there’s one thing Louis despises over everything else, it’s being made fun of.

“Oh, honey,” Harry says condescendingly. “Who are _you_ to tell me what to do?”

And that’s the moment that Louis decides that he takes back every single thought he’s had about Harry so far. He takes all the kindness and beliefs that this spirit is a good person, the weird attraction and fascination, he takes it all back. He takes everything back, because Harry’s not worthy of any of it. Harry isn’t worthy of any sort of respect or benevolence.

“A good soul,” Louis grits through his teeth. “That’s who I am. And you’re giving that cane back to Camron who’s probably still sitting out there unable to do anything to help himself out of the situation. Have some _manners_.”

Harry is just quiet for a second. He looks at Louis as if he might think Louis is insane. He lets his eyes trail up and down the fairy’s appearance for the longest of time.

“Do you know who I am?” he settles for in the end. His hands are still persistently gripping the wooden stick. Good thing Louis is the most stubborn person Louis’ ever known then.

“Yeah.” Louis meets the eyes above him with confidence. Harry’s obnoxiously tall, really, he might be a half giant or something, but Louis is not scared. He’s not scared of cocky spirits with no concept of decency or respect.

Harry nods, barely noticeably. “Then maybe you should watch that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The soul of Algo barks out another mocking laugh. “Really now? Look, I can cause you pain so intense you’ll think you’re dying with a flick of my hand, and you’re a little pixie with a God complex. I’d rethink that statement if I were you.”

A pixie.

A _pixie_.

Louis’ eyes narrow into thin lines. Harry doesn’t know it, or maybe he does— he probably does—but if there’s one thing that Louis absolutely cannot stand, it’s when people have the nerve to compare him to one of those teeny tiny, intolerable little creatures. Pixies are nothing but troublemakers the size of a human’s thumb. They fill no function. They’re just _there_ , like mosquitos or flies or some equally irritating bug.

And Louis _does_ fill a function. Louis is a nature fairy, Louis helps changing seasons and harvest and growing grass and daisies and apple trees. Louis is not the size of a human’s _anything_ , thank you very much. Louis is not worth comparing to human’s limbs. Pixies are, though.

And when Louis sees Harry’s excruciating smirk, he knows that Harry is well aware of all of this.

It makes him absolutely furious.

“I am a _fairy_ ,” he says slowly and icily. “And you are pathetic.”

The crook of Harry’s mouth doesn’t quite vanish. Louis wants it wiped off of his face forever. “Am I now?”

“Well.” Louis purses his lips and widens his eyes sweetly. “I’m not the one harassing helpless creatures half my size.”

“Creatures half _your_ size? Must be hard to find, pixie.”

“ _It kind of makes one wonder_ ,” Louis continues pointedly, “why don’t you go bother someone your own size? Afraid you don’t stand a chance against someone mildly equal to yourself?”

His insides swell with pride when the amusement completely drops from Harry’s face.

The taller soul narrows his eyes hostilely, and he takes another step forward and leans down, so that they are almost on eye level.

“Don’t question my abilities, little one,” he states deeply, speaking in quiet rasps. “I could fuck you up so badly. I could _end_ you, if I wanted to. So take my advice and keep out of my business.”

“I thought we settled that I’m not scared of you.” Louis can almost feel Harry’s faint breath on his face. They’re that close. “And if you have just a seed of kindness in your body, you’re giving Camron his cane back.”

“I don’t take orders from a sassy nature helper.”

There is a moment of silence, both boys staring intently into each other’s eyes. It turns into an unspoken game, seeing who would break that eye contact first. Louis can count the different shades of green in Harry’s dark irises, he can count his black eyelashes and see the creases of his eyelids.

Louis breaks it.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way.”

And then he squeezes past Harry, emphatically elbowing the spirit’s side while doing do, and marches up to the door.

When he opens it carefully he, as expected, finds Camron sitting in fetal position with his back against the wall on the right side of the door. He doesn’t even look up at Louis, and Louis feels so sorry for him.

“Come on, buddy,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

The little dwarf looks up slowly when he realizes that the voice addressing him is too high and too nice to come from Harry. His face relaxes remarkably when he sees Louis’ friendly appearance, and he smiles a little. “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem, alright? Now if you just put your arm here…”

Louis lowers himself and gestures for Camron to put his arm around his neck. Camron does, and they manage to get up in standing position. Camron keeps thanking Louis over and over again, and Louis keeps assuring him it’s nothing.

When they’re standing by the doorway to Louis’ room, Louis finds Harry staring at him with something undefinable in his eyes. The cane is still in his hands, and Louis just gives him a look of spite as their gazes meet.

“Don’t let him have the pleasure. I’ll make you a new cane,” Louis promises Camron. “I could do one out of whatever tree you’d like. Or, that’s growing on campus, at least.”

Camron nods shortly. “Okay.”

Louis turns his head to Harry one last time. “Get out of my room, please.”

Harry just keeps watching for a few more seconds, and then he walks out there with heavy steps. It’s like he sees this as a defeat. If that is the case, nothing could make Louis happier.

“Thank you.” Louis closes the door behind the three of them, and then starts helping Camron to make his way to his own dorm. Camron does his best to hurry up, hopping erratically down the hallway.

And then they hear a quiet cough behind them, and Louis looks back to see Harry stand just a few feet away.

“Um,” the green eyed boy says. He’s looking promptly down at his feet. “Here.”

He holds out the cane to Camron, still refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Camron stares at Harry. Then he stares at Louis. Then he stares at his cane. Then he stares at Harry again.

“Um,” he echoes, carefully taking the wooden stick out of Harry’s grip, as if he’s afraid it’ll just be a joke. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Harry just mutters. “Whatever.”

Camron lets go of Louis to balance himself again, and then he fully turns to the fairy.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he beams. “Thanks for helping me.”

Louis just returns the dwarf’s smile, and can’t help but to shoot Harry a smug glance as well. Harry glares back.

“Don’t think I’ll just let this go, pixie,” he murmurs when Camron’s gone. “I swear on Hades you’ll regret this every single day for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ll deal.”

Harry just shakes his head and throws him one last dirty look. “If you ever dare to speak loudly about this, I will actually cut your wings off.”

“Aw, your little secret is safe with me,” Louis coos back.

There’s a huff leaving Harry’s lips, and then he’s gone again, as if dissolved into thin air.

Louis hurries into his room and locks the door behind him again, sliding down against the cold wood to sit on the floor.

Needless to say, he didn’t really study more that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry's introduced!! wey hey!! 
> 
> kudos and comments really make y day, so if you read and have something to say about it, DO!! i really love getting feedback on my things. criticism is great, too. xxx
> 
> my tumblr is still a-bit-extraordilarry, and i'll love you forever if you talk to me because i am literally the loneliest person you've ever seen.


	4. chapter 3; university of the three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

”I hate Harry Styles,” is the first thing Louis says when he sits down beside Eleanor at lunch the following day.

“Congratulations,” Eleanor says, raising an eyebrow. Louis sighs exasperatedly.

“No, you don’t understand. I actually hate him. It’s a thing now. It’s a new day, the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and I hate Harry Styles. He’s a… He’s a _toad_.”

“Watch out, if you keep that sort of language up you might be sent to the Underworld.” Eleanor rolls her eyes. “So, when exactly did this change of opinion occur?”

Louis huffs. “Yesterday when he broke into my dorm and was a jerk to Camron.”

Eleanor’s brow furrows. “He _broke into your dorm_? What do you mean he ‘ _broke into your dorm’_?”

“Well.” Louis purses his lips as his mind unwillingly travels back to yesterday’s happenings. “He was running around in the hallway outside. He’d taken Camron’s cane, you know Camron, right? One-legged dwarf, very sympathetic, would never hurt a fly?”

“Yeah,” Eleanor gestures for him to continue.

Louis cracks his knuckles and straightens his back, directly diving into the story.

“Okay. So there I am in my room, minding my own business, trying to study like the great student I am, when all of a sudden, voices are heard from the hallway outside.”

Eleanor almost manages to suppress an eye roll at her friend’s theatricality, but she nods, still all ears.

“It sounds like some kind of fight. And you know, I'm heavily considering going out there in all my pride and glory and stop everything, but then I’d have to break the rules, which doesn’t really fit well with me being a good student, right. So I’m obviously torn between two choices, totally clueless which way to go…”

“Louis?”

“Yes?”

“You do know I don’t actually care about your inner heroic struggles, right? I genuinely just want to know what happened.”

Louis huffs. “Whatever. Pardon me for trying to make it justice.”

Eleanor doesn’t get to answer, because Louis is on a roll and he doesn’t like to be interrupted for longer than absolutely necessary.

“Anyway, so I'm in my bed contemplating whether to save the day or save myself, when someone screams right outside my door and—without the door ever opening—someone is standing _inside my room_. You’ll never guess who it is.”

“The Easter bunny?” Eleanor mutters ironically. Louis doesn’t care.

“ _Harry Styles_ ,” he says, upper lip curling slightly with disgust, “is standing by my door, snickering like some possessed little child. And I’m obviously startled, so I’m like ‘what are you doing in my room?’, and he turns to me as if he hasn’t even realized someone else lives in there, and—“

He stops himself momentarily, biting his lip. Eleanor still doesn’t know about the creeping incident, and Louis is not about to be the first one to tell her. No way. She’s not going to have that pleasure.

“—And I’m like ‘what on earth were you doing out there?’ and he just pulls this cocky smirk and tells me he's having a bit of fun. _Fun_ , Eleanor, can you believe it?”

“I could never have.”

Honestly, Eleanor is a really ungrateful audience. Louis prefers the younger fairies back in the forest. They adored him.

“Turns out that Harry took Camron’s cane, and he has no plans on giving it back. So I tell him that that’s an awful thing to do and he doesn’t care one bit. He is completely indifferent, no matter how much I try to lead him onto the right path. And _then_ , do you know what he does?”

“No idea.”

Louis’ eyes narrow bitterly at the memory. “He calls me a _pixie_. He calls me a pixie and makes fun of me. And I am obviously astounded that he has the sheer _nerve,_ but I think to myself ‘he’s not going to get to me’. And so I _drag him to the ground_ , using only words. Something that he could _never_ do, I’m positive.”

“Go you.”

“The guy’s still not giving in, though. He’s keeping that cane. So then I decide that, ‘fine. Don’t sink to his level.’ Because I know that there is another creature out there in the hallway in need of help. So… So I help him instead. I felt so bad for Camron, you have no idea—he looked so small, and I felt awful. Just awful. So I promised I’d make him a new cane and he seemed grateful.”

Louis’ voice softens a little when he talks about Camron. He knows a thing or two about feeling small, and he’d hate for anyone else to have to feel that way, too. It makes his heart tremble with protectiveness.

“That’s really nice of you,” Eleanor compliments softly, sounding genuinely admiring for the first time since Louis’ opened his mouth.

The fairy smiles faintly and blushes, looking down on his lap for a second before picking up the story where he left it.

“Anyway, we’re like halfway down the hallway, when we hear a cough. And we turn around to see who it is, and there he is! The one and only Harry Styles, looking bashful and bitter. And what does he do? He returns the darn cane. I made him return the cane to Camron, can you imagine? And then I think he tries to threaten me or something, and I'm totally cool about everything, of course, and after that he just vanishes again. So… Yeah. He’s horrendous.”

Eleanor’s eyes widen and she slightly shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about ‘hey, you’re such a great soul, Louis, and you deserve my deepest adoration until forever’?” Louis suggests.

Eleanor snorts, twining a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t know if I should be amazed by your courage or your stupidity, honestly.”

“Rude.” Louis looks at her, offended. “I made myself Harry Styles’ superior, I deserve credit.”

“Maybe,” Eleanor allows, “but you might just got yourself the worst enemy you could possibly ask for in this place.”

“I can take him on.”

“You can talk, right—no one’s missed that. But if Harry decides he wants to physically or mentally hurt you, you will stand no chance.”

Louis bites his lip. He doesn’t like admitting that other people are right if that proves his own actions to be wrong, so he frantically searches for a good retort that would solve this. He wants to say that Harry wouldn’t go that far, but he’s really not sure. He’s really not. Harry would totally go that far. Harry lacks empathy. He wouldn’t care about damaging someone who made him look weak.

“But,” Louis tries. “Look. I won’t go search for him every day or try and pick a fight or something. I doubt that if I don’t actually look for him, and he doesn’t look for me, we probably won’t even see each other. We have no classes together. I didn’t even know who he was before you told me and I didn’t even see him until after that. We’ll be fine.”

“Who’ll be fine?”

The two of them are interrupted by a very familiar voice emerging from behind Louis. Judging by the look on Eleanor’s face, and the raspy tone of the question, there’s no doubt about who it came from.

Louis mentally groans. Why. Why would this happen. Why now? Why ever? Why is Harry even a _thing_?

“No one,” he says with a sigh. “Unless you leave, of course. Then everyone will be fine.”

He doesn’t even have to look at Harry to know he’s grinning as he speaks. “Aw. That’s cute.”

Louis closes his eyes for a few seconds. _Don’t let anything get to you, don’t let anything get to you, don’t let anything_ –

“I know,” he replies, turning around in his chair to look at the spirit of pain. “I am _beautiful_. Now that we’ve cleared that up, how about you just—”

He has to abruptly stop himself when a sudden rush of intense pain shoots through his ribcage. His eyes widen in shock and he convulsively clutches his chest and gasps for air.

Harry’s laugh and the muffled sniggers from his petty friends rings in Louis’ ears.

“What’s the matter, pixie?”

The pain is gone faster than it came, and Louis gives Harry a positively loathing stare. Harry seems completely unfazed.

“Nothing,” Louis grits out through his teeth, straightening out and adjusting his fringe. “Like I said before, might want to try picking on creatures your own size. If some kind of power is what you want to prove, that is.”

Something unpleasant flashes in Harry’s eyes for a second, and Louis catches his lips curving downwards before he regains control.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks. “ _Anyone_ could damage you, isn’t that right? Breakable little thing.”

Louis gets a funny feeling in his arms. Needles are piercing all over his smooth skin, and he makes an attempt to shake it off, scratching with his nails. It doesn’t work. They keep stinging.

“Stop it!” he hisses. Harry and his audience just laugh.

“Harry, stop it,” Eleanor finally speaks, and it comes out as an icy snap.

The feeling in Louis’ arms disappear as Harry turns his infuriatingly cocky gaze to the girl. “Eleanor,” he beams. “I haven’t seen you in _ages._ How are things?”

“Lovely,” she replies, and Louis is impressed by her complete coldness. “Please just leave. No one finds you amusing.”

“I actually find myself hilarious,” Harry says, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

“That’s because no one else does. They’re too busy kissing your rear.”

Harry sighs with a wistful smile stretching across his lips. “I do like how you good souls seem allergic to cusswords. It’s very charming.”

He waits for his group of people to respond with amusement, and when they do he nods in satisfaction.

“Anyway,” he continues, turning to Louis. “I was just checking up on you. Letting you know I keep promises. In case you thought I didn’t.”

“Good to know,” Louis deadpans. “I was beginning to worry.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Louis and Eleanor watches Harry strut off with his insufferable group of friends slash suck-ups, and then Eleanor opens her mouth.

“You must have a death wish.”

“I have a back bone,” Louis mutters. “And he needs someone who dares shrinking that ego of his a bit.”

“Maybe. But it’d been better if that someone was a giant. Or the offspring of Harmonia. Or Zeus.”

“Don’t underestimate me. You talked back at him, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I am an offspring of Zeus’ daughter and Harry knows he could actually get in real trouble if he’d do me harm. He’s cruel, but he’s not stupid.”

Louis just shakes his head and looks down, deciding to just start eating his lunch. Maybe food could help him push away the frustration that seems to always come with the presence of Harry.

 

~

 

The thing is, Harry doesn’t stop.

All of a sudden, the spirit seem to be everywhere. He’s in the cafeteria when Louis is. He passes him in corridors and on campus at least twice a day. He makes sure to burst into classes where Louis is present for whatever reason.

He also makes sure to always do something to annoy the fairy. _Every single time_. Whether it’s the illusion of a pinch on the skin on his neck, or a snarky comment, or pushing Louis’ books to the floor.

And Louis tries to listen to Eleanor’s warnings, he tries to listen to the sensible part of himself. He tries to be the bigger person and he tries to ignore the curly boy.

But the thing is, it really does _hurt_. Because every word that leaves Harry’s lips, every movement or act of discomfort towards Louis, it’s a constant reminder that Louis is _unimportant_. It’s all a play of power. Harry knows that that’s Louis’ weak spot, knows that Louis hates when people thinks lowly of him just because he happens to be a fairy, and he makes sure to use it to his advantage every chance he gets.

Louis cannot understand how he was ever intrigued by this creature. How he could ever have felt compassion for him, how he could have found him beautiful.

He is still very physically attractive, make no mistakes—but it means nothing in Louis’ eyes anymore. The spots of dark and amount of green shades in his eyes aren’t quite as mesmerizing. Louis doesn’t have an urge to feel the velvety curls on his head. He doesn’t want to trace his fingers along his ivory white skin.

It’s sad, really. Louis really would’ve liked to be able to quietly enjoy the beauty of the creature without knowing how awful the inside actually is.

He’s well aware of Harry’s purpose. He’s not doing this only because he thinks it’s funny to pick on someone every now and then.

Harry Styles knows how to build up frustration and negativity inside a soul, knows exactly how to play and where to go. He knows exactly how to break down walls.

And Louis hasn’t thought of it like this before, he hasn’t come so far as to think the spirit’s being through properly, but Harry is actually terrifying.

 _I could fuck you up so bad. I could_ end _you, if I wanted to._

He’s trying to, Louis is positive. He’s slowly trying to make Louis lose his mind.

Maybe Louis really does have a death wish.

 

~

 

Everything goes to absolute shit the following Monday.

To be fair, it’s not entirely Harry doing the work. Louis has been walking around in a terrible mood the whole day, like a ticking bomb. Harry just happens to set him off.

It’s just not Louis’ day today, alright? He manages to wake up to a cloudy, grey sky, and it immediately makes the corners of his mouth drop. He hates bad weather. _Detests_ it. As a nature fairy, maybe he should be able to find something good in all weathers, but he just can’t stand rain. It gets him wet and cold on all the worst possible occasions, it does a splendid job of complicating all of Louis’ own tasks and even though, yes, it is necessary for nature to able to stay green and blooming, Louis just can’t help but let his mood wash down quicker than the pouring drops outside.

Louis likes colours. He likes analyzing shades of green and blue and yellow and red, assigning them places and emotions and meaning. He likes comparing colours and combining colours and mixing colours. It’s incredibly fascinating to him.

And, you know, it’s kind of really very hard to, when everything is just _grey_.

You can only go so far with grey, can you?

There’s the water color splash kind of grey wandering about in the sky. There’s the grimy kind of grey that washes down dirty drains and mixes with muddy spots on mismanaged lawns (which, Louis hates mismanaged lawns, too. Like, you had one job. You had one job. Making sure grass is covering all the places it needs to be covering is a job even the greatest of idiots can do, and someone messed it up).

There’s the polished metal kind of grey that lakes and oceans like to turn into during storms. There is the charcoal of the streets.

And then when you have placed out all of the visible greys, you have to really strain yourself. The clouds are the grey of a cold finger tracing your wrist. The trees are the grey of a boring conversation, the buildings are the grey of melancholy.

It’s like watching something though a black and white lens, and even though life is very black and white opinion wise to Louis, that doesn’t mean he wants the whole _world_ to be. It’s extremely depressing.

(He bets Harry enjoys rain.)

So he wakes up to this, and on top of that he wakes up later than he intended, which he is not used to at all. He’s so tired he can barely rise from his bed, his body is aching with sleep when he puts his clothes on.

It doesn’t exactly help later, when he arrives to his first class with the wrong books. Or when he drops his pen and it rolls three seats in front of him, causing him to have to crawl by someone’s feet to get it.

He can’t concentrate in Greek History, and when the teacher calls on him, Louis can’t answer and he loathes being wrong.

Eleanor visibly notices that something is wrong, but she doesn’t comment on it. Louis is glad, even though it does make conversations a tad awkward and a tad few as well, but that suits him today. He really isn’t in the mood for chatting, and he’s grateful he’s got a friend like Eleanor who understands that.

In short, he’s having a terrible day. And it’s not like it improves when Louis hears that annoyingly deep voice calling out his name in the big hallway on the top floor of the head building. Meaning, it’s the place where most people are this very time of day.

“ _Louis_ , darling.”

At first, Louis attempts to do what he usually does, which is to send him a dirty glare and keep walking. He almost follows through as well, doing really good considering his state, but Harry seems determined that today will be the day he puts Louis to actual death.

“Are you running away from me, pixie?”

_Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking._

“Aw, you are, aren’t you? You’re so cute thinking that’s a way to get rid of me.”

_The classroom is just around the corner._

“What’s the matter, Louis? Wouldn’t you like a little chat?”

 _It’s ecology. It’s fun. This will be so fun. Louis is having_ so _much fun._

And then it just drops on him, those words Harry has been keeping until this very moment.

“And here I thought you were _strong_ , not scared of a petty confrontation.”

_You know what? Screw ecology._

He stops abruptly, trying to calm his increasingly rapid breathing. His little fists are tightly gripping his books.

This is the moment where he should be the bigger person. This is where he should just give him a look and then keep walking. This is where he should prove that he’s rational and mature and unaffected by Harry’s words.

It’s just that, he’s not.

Louis slowly turns around to meet Harry’s eyes. There’s a glint of humor in them that irritates him so much he wants to pull his hair out. He wants to pull _Harry’s_ stupid hair out.

“Do you need something?” he grits out through his teeth.

Harry raises his eyebrows in a way that’s supposed to look innocent.

“Just though we could have a friendly chat.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Not really, no.” Harry shrugs unapologetically. “You’re just cute when you’re angry.”

 _Cute_.

Louis doesn’t want to be cute anymore. Especially not to someone like Harry Styles.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” he asks, widening his eyes in frustration. “What makes me so incredibly special to you?”

“Obsessed with you? Honey, I’m doing you a favor. I’m just trying to help you realise.”

“Realise what, exactly? Because you’d think _you_ should’ve realized by now that you don’t matter to me.”

Harry’s smile would almost be soft, if it weren’t for the slightly hardening glint of his eyes. “You need to realise your place.”

The tall spirit slowly approaches Louis as he starts speaking in a feigned gentle voice.

“You’re in way over your head, pixie,” he says lightly. “You want to be seen, don’t you? You want to be a _hero_.”

There is laughter from around them, and Louis realises mostly everyone has stopped in their tracks to witness their conversation. Witnessing the Harry Styles tear down the _poor wittle fairy_.

It makes Louis’ skin prickle with anger.

“It’s so sweet, it really is,” Harry continues, nodding as if he feels compassion. “It’s a nice thought. I’d love for you to fulfill your dream and be a winged three foot knight in shining armor. But, as it is,” he sighs wistfully. “I do have a duty, don’t I?”

“I guess you do,” Louis spits coldly.

Harry looks at him and nods. “Thank you for understanding, Louis. Although I have to warn you; it’s going to hurt.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

The air is thick and tense with expectant silence from everyone around. Louis stares at Harry coldly, holding the passive-aggressiveness up to an impressive level, if he does say so himself. He’s surprised he hasn’t exploded yet.

They’re close again. Harry is towering up in front of him, looking down with a condescending expression etched into his features.

“You are _nothing_ ,” he speaks slowly. “You’re not going to amount to any of the things you dream of. You are a little, dainty creature with a child’s heart and you’re made to grow pretty flowers. You won’t be more than that, Louis, you don’t have the ability. You don’t _belong_ in a world like this.”

It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t hurt at all, it really, really shouldn’t because Harry’s saying it just to watch Louis’ pain.

But it _does_. It hurts more than anything Louis’ experienced from mere words before in his life.

He’s always been afraid of that, is the thing. Of never amounting to anything, to never mean anything to anyone except as a tool. Afraid of never making a change, afraid of eternally strolling through life as the petite, breakable fairy who can do nothing but grow trees and harvest.

And he’s had it, now. It’s like every single negative emotion that’s been pushing and fuming under his skin ever since he woke up this morning is on its way up, and Louis finds himself wanting to break things.

He wants Harry to feel _terrible_. He wants Harry to be twisting in pain on the floor, he wants Harry to gasp for air and beg for forgiveness. He wants Harry to feel the exact way he makes other creatures feel every single day.

He’s not going to let Harry win. Not Louis. Because Louis can amount to _whatever_ he wants to.

So he breathes deeply a couple of times, and then he looks straight at Harry with as much defiance he can muster.

“You’re not going to win,” he says slowly, refusing to rip his gaze from Harry’s conceited one.

Harry looks so patronising and Louis wants to harm him. “What am I not going to win, pixie?”

Louis doesn’t answer his question. Rather, he just narrows his eyes and walks closer.

“Do you want to know the irony in this?” he asks. “Here you are, trying to tell me that _my_  sense of confidence is deluded--when you've gained all of your high and mightiness from fear. You are where you are only because the people around you are scared you're going to hurt them. How does _that_ feel, Harry? Please, tell me how it feels to have every single person who ever crosses paths with you being so terribly afraid of you that they either feel like they have to act like your slave or avoid the mere name of your being. Tell me what it’s like to have no one but yourself to rely on regarding absolutely everything. What's it like being lonely like that, Harry? Please, indulge me—tell me how it feels to only know pain, because it must be _unbearable_.”

The curly haired soul’s eyes proceed to darken as Louis speaks, and Louis almost wants to laugh because it’s _working_.

So he keeps going.

“When you consider it, you don’t know more than I do. You only hurt people because no actual skills are required from you doing that. A soul like you, Harry, will never know love, or happiness, because you’re made to destroy it. You will only ever know pain and I pity you. I _pity_ you.”

The condescending smirk has completely dropped off Harry’s face as Louis has spoken, and Louis feels a small sense of pride at that. Harry does not have all the power he thinks he has. The spirit’s jaw is tightly clenched and Louis almost worries something will break. The otherwise green eyes are darker than a starless winter night.

“You are so _naïve_ ,” Harry eventually out.

“Maybe,” Louis keeps staring. “But so are you. _Darling_.”

“You should probably go.” Harry’s voice is bitingly cold.

“You’re so sad,” Louis keeps pushing, too blinded by hatred to even comprehend what Harry’s saying. He just wants to _break_ him. “Your _mother_ , who’s supposed to love and care for you, created you merely as a tool to do a part of her work easier, and you walk around like you own the world. _You’re_ the one who’s worth nothing.”

He knows he’s made a mistake when a terrifying growl leaves Harry’s mouth and he springs forward with clenched fists.

Louis immediately lifts off of the ground in self-defense, hovering a few feet above the ground.

“I will kill you,” Harry hisses, and it doesn’t even sound like a threat. It sounds like a promise. “I will _kill_ you.”

And he starts running, and Louis starts flying, and—

Yeah, this was probably a very bad idea. Stupid temper. _Stupid_ temper.

They rush down the hallway. Louis’ wings actually hit a few people in the face, leaving creatures confused with only a whoosh of the wind as confirmation it actually happened. Harry is right behind him, lips pursed in loathing and hands fisted tightly in rage, occasionally reaching out to grip after Louis’ flitting body. He pushes the poor souls mercilessly out of the way, eyes fixed on the fairy’s delicate back.

Louis’ heart is in his throat, fluttering erratically as he fights to make his way through the building. A part of him wonders why Harry isn’t stopping him, isn’t hurting him when he so obviously could make Louis into a writhing mess in a matter of seconds.

He’s glad he’s not, though. Makes things a bit easier for him.

His wings have probably never moved this fast in his life. It’s extremely bizarre, actually, but combined with the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the excuse to push people, actually relieves Louis an awful lot. It’s almost—it’s almost _fun_.

He looks back quickly, Harry black-eyed and stern face only a little bit from getting him, and he can’t help but let a giggle let out. He made Harry “Soul of Algos” Styles so angry he felt the need to physically hunt him down. It’s a peculiar sort of accomplishment.

Obviously, though, Harry notices Louis’ amusement, and that makes his eyes narrows impossibly thinner, and then he _disappears_ , just like he’d done after the Camron incident. Louis is actually so surprised at his actions that he stops mid-air, frowning confusedly.

“Enjoying yourself, pixie?” a voice suddenly asks lowly into his ear, and Louis yelps and flies up against the ceiling again.

Harry looks somewhat pleased with himself for startling Louis to that extent, and he looks daringly up at the fairy.

“Someone’s being a coward,” he states.

“Someone’s being a creep with no concept of personal space,” Louis retorts heatedly, crossing his arms.

“I will literally wait all day,” Harry promises. “I don’t have to sleep. I don’t have to eat. I will gladly stand here until your wings fail you from exhaustion.”

“You will miss class,” Louis tries and he feels right after he said it that yeah, that was lame. That was extremely lame.

Harry actually lets out a laugh and Louis blushes. “More importantly, I’d guess, so will you.”

Louis watches the other boy cautiously as he slowly, slowly lowers himself to the floor again. Harry doesn’t break the eye contact, standing completely still as Louis moves. He doesn’t make any attempts at attacking the fairy, but then again his posture is still terribly hostile, so Louis by no means thinks he’s going to let it go.

He’s right, because as soon as Louis is steadily on his feet, Harry launches forward and there they go again.

They reach the marble stairs now, flying down them at the speed of light. Or, well, Louis is flying. Harry might as well be rolling his way down, but Louis likes to think the spirit has slightly more dignity than that. Or maybe not.

He would like to see him rolling down, though. It would be very amusing.

A funny thing about Harry, is that despite having a solid humanized body, he doesn’t seem to possess very many human functions. For one, he doesn’t seem to ever get out of breath. He even attempts holding a conversation with Louis on several occasions; probably just to emphasize how unfazed he is by their little chase.

It irritates Louis to no end.

They’re still taking on the stairs; they never seem to end. Even though Louis thinks so many times that they must’ve reached the first floor by now, there always seem to be more stairs. His wings are growing tired. His breath is heavy, and he bites his lip as he forces himself to keep going.

Harry, as always, seems to notice. “Getting tired?”

“In your dreams,” Louis growls.

“Good. Watch out so you don’t break yourself.”

 _That little prick_.

Louis throws a disgusted glance back, before aiming straight down the last (finally) set of stairs. He’s going to show the pretentious idiot.

So he spurts. He flies as fast as his little body can allow him and a little faster, and he can feel Harry falling behind and with a delighted grin on his thin lips, he crashes down into the wall down by the hallway. Harry is nowhere to be seen. Louis is the _winner_.

Except.

Louis confusedly turns around so he’s not facing the concrete wall.

This hallway is way too small, it’s way too dark and it’s way too empty to be the main floor of the head building. Actually, it’s almost claustrophobically narrow now that he’s actually looking. No lights are on, except the bluish ones coming out from the small cracks of the door lined up on the left side of the corridor.

It’s then that he realizes, that he’s not on the main floor. He’s in the basement.

The _basement_. This is where you travel to other worlds.

Shouldn’t this place be very, _very_ locked and prohibited?

Louis feels uneasy, when he realizes where he is, and he turns around immediately to walk back up. He would be dead if someone caught him being here.

The fairy jumps about six feet up in the air with a shriek.

Harry is casually leaning against the wall only a few steps away, nonchalantly studying his nails.

“How do you _do_ that?” Louis accuses in a high pitched tone, frowning in distress.

Harry flashes a quick, dry smile, and then Louis’ small body is pressed up against one of the doors, wings aching from being so tightly pushed against the wood. He’s got a muscular arms under his chin, holding him up. It’s adding uncomfortable pressure to his collarbones and throat, and Louis desperately tries to squirm out of the firm grip.

Harry’s breath is on his lips.

“Did you really think I’d let a trick like that go?” the spirit growls. Louis meets his eyes. They are dark and intimidating, pupils blown wide, and it sends shivers down Louis’ spine. He’s _screwed_.

“You know, I want you like you, Louis,” Harry continues, voice low and stern. “I really do. But you have to learn how to keep your fucking mouth in check, or I swear to God I will – “

“H-hurt me?” Louis spits out, trying to get as much edge to his reply as possible considering his position. “That must be a first.”

“You talk and you talk, and you understand _nothing_.”

“And you’re pathetic.”

Harry’s eyes are huge this up-close, burning with what Louis could only describe as genuine hatred.

“You,” Harry whispers, edging closer, “need to shut _up_.”

Louis puts on his cockiest face, raising his chin the best he can and stares right back into the two black fires inches from his own eyes.

“Make me.”

Harry’s rosebud upper lip curls, and Louis can do nothing but cuss himself out for not actually being able to shut up ever and wait for the pain, but then he’s falling.

The wood upon which he is pushed up against vanishes from against his back, and Louis can only let out a small yelp as he falls backwards, Harry stumbling with him.

Time flies unbelievably fast.

Someone’s furiously yelling at them to “ _get back, get away, stupid kids_ ,” but they don’t have time to listen, because Harry is still holding onto Louis and Louis is way too short to support both of them and regain balance. So he keeps hopelessly stumbling backwards three more steps.

He sees Harry’s eyes first. They’re green again. They’re green, they’re wider than ever, and they’re horrified.

“No, Louis, _fuck_ , we need to – “

And then there’s something on the floor, something Louis would guess is a threshold, and every chance of regaining stability before disaster strikes slips hopelessly through his fingers.

Louis gives out a scared screech and desperately digs his nails into Harry’s upper arms in need for some sort of solidity.

And then they’re both falling, dwindling, tumbling.

 

~

 

It’s nauseating.

It’s like the universe can’t make up its mind on where to take them; colors and weathers and surroundings pass by in a violent haze, leaving Louis dizzy and scared and desperately clinging to Harry’s arm in an attempt to keep himself grounded some way. He would probably be ashamed, if it wasn’t first of all, for the fact that he is a little too busy surviving to care about shame right now, and second, he can feel Harry’s own grip around his waist, so no one can really blame him.

When they finally land, it’s forceful and Louis gets his face full of grass. Perfectly green, watered grass. He splutters and flies up on his feet in a matter of seconds, exasperatedly looking around. It’s a beautiful forest, it really is. Every single patch of green is perfectly managed and every bush in sight is flawlessly cut and nourished. The paths are evenly grained and the trees are freshly blooming.

Louis knows this place. He’s been traveling between it and his home practically since he was born.

“Where are we?” Harry asks, seemingly distressed, from behind him.

“Oh my God,” Louis groans. “Oh my _God_.”

“ _Where the fuck are we, Louis_?”

A girl in a red hood skips by on the path a bit away from them.

Louis tries his best to keep his voice on normal conversation level when he answers, because truth be told, he’d rather be screaming right now.

“Welcome to the Village of Grim,” he says bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, guys. i've got a beta. and his name is [tj](http://www.zainsupremacy.tumblr.com) and he's awesome. so thank you tj for doing this, ily :Dxxx
> 
> and I guess this is where the plot properly starts? yaaayyy?
> 
> as always, if you'd ever feel like making my day, my tumblr is [a-bit-extraordilarry](http://www.a-bit-extraordilarry.tumblr.com) and i literally get so happy when people talk to me. so, yes. 
> 
> next chapter will be up next wednesday or thursday :D


	5. chapter 4; the village of grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

They’re in Grimm’s Village.

They’re in _Grimm’s_ _Village_.

Louis has fallen through a broken one way portal to Grimm’s Village and there is no safe way to get back to the University of the Three, and he’s stuck with _Harry Styles_.

“Oh my God,” he hisses again, looking around the green forest. “What have you _done_?”

Harry rises from the ground, brushing grass off of his jeans and elbows, and he snaps his head up at Louis’ accusing question, fixing Louis with a murderous glare. “What have _I_ done?” He spits furiously, pointing disbelievingly at himself. “I didn’t do a damn thing. _You_ were the one who couldn’t stand on your own two feet for three fucking seconds!”

Louis gasps, eyes narrowing at Harry in offense. “Excuse me, who was pushing me up against a perfectly openable door in the first place?”

“’Openable’, is not even a _word_ ,” Harry snorts derisively. “You have _wings_ , for fucks sake, was it _that_ hard to use them?”

“Well, you have the creepy ability to teleport however you want to, so don’t you try to put this on me. You know, maybe I could’ve used my wings if they weren’t sore from being—I repeat— _violently pushed up against a sodding door_.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “If you hadn’t just acted like a little fucking brat from minute one, you wouldn’t have been pushed up against a door in the first place!”

“Oh _really_ ,” Louis puts his hands on his hips. “Well, if you hadn’t been so _affected_ by me merely _defending_ _myself_ I wouldn’t have been either!”

“You’re literally asking for the world to punch you in the face, you know that?”

“At least I’m not in happily charge of throwing those punches,” Louis shoots back. _Ha. Take that,_ he thinks, triumphantly.

Harry smiles at him, condescendingly. “Obviously, you’d be too weak.”

“ _Do you want a piece of me_?”

Harry is repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists, and he inhales deeply through his nose with closed eyes a couple of times. His jaw is stiff, his neck is strained and Louis _loathes_ him.

“No,” Harry replies simply when he opens his eyes again.

Louis frowns. “No?” he repeats, almost angry that Harry gave up so easily. Louis was all prepared to swing. Could’ve knocked him out. Maybe. Perhaps. Probably not, but.

“No,” Harry confirms, cutting of Louis’ train of thought. “Because you’re going to get us to the next portal and it’ll be easier for both of us if you’re in one piece when doing so.”

He starts looking around him, to try and locate himself probably, and Louis just looks at him incredulously. He’s slowly starting to suspect that Harry might not only be cruel, but insane.

Louis tips his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest and blinks at Harry. “Who says I’ll help you with anything?”

“I do.” Harry turns around to face the fairy again and points to the path that leads further into the forest. “I assume that we follow this way, or would that be too obvious?”

Louis knows exactly what he could say here. _No, you do_ , he could say. _Follow the path about half a mile and then diverge to the left by the three birch trees. They’re the only ones of their kind in the forest. Continue going straight for about a hundred meters, turn right by the daisy meadow, cross the winding stream, turn right again by the seven dwarves’ house, continue for a while and fly over the hedge of thorns when you get there, find the big oak tree. Make sure you’re a helper of Grimm, not a citizen. Walk past on the right side. Voila. Serve hot._

But he won’t. He won’t, because first of all, he’s not doing anything in favor for Harry, and second, why the hell should they _leave_?

“We’re not going through another portal,” Louis declares stubbornly. “That’s just irrational.”

Harry blinks. “Well, we need to get out of here, right?”

Louis suppresses an exasperated groan. “Harry, dear,” he begins tiredly, his voice dripping with the condescending tone of voice Harry is much too fond of using, “did you miss the part where the portals are broken?”

“Haha,” Harry deadpans. “Look, we can’t stay here. We need to try and get back.”

“Are you actually that incompetent?” Louis stares at the curly haired soul. “This is a _great_ place in comparison to where we could’ve ended up. We are so lucky that we landed here. I know my way around this place and it’s a place with humans so it can’t be that dangerous. We had the _immense_ luck to end up in a relatively safe place, and you want to _leave_?”

“We’ll be alright wherever we go. It’s _fine_.”

“No, it’s not!” Frustration is bubbling up again in Louis’ chest, threatening to spill over. Does Harry want to die? Is that a thing he wants to do? Is he stupid? Is he _joking_? “We’re staying right here, in Grimm’s Village, until we’re sure that the portals are working again.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a slow, steady exhale. “We don’t know how long that will take. Trust me, this won’t be a thing they’ll be able to fix in a couple of days. The Gods of all Three will probably have to cooperate to fix this problem. It might take _months_.”

“Then we’ll stay here for months, Harry. I’m not going through another portal and risking going to Tartaros or Hel or something equally awful.”

“We’d be fine.”

“No,” Louis rolls his eyes. “ _You’d_ be fine. I, on the other hand, would be eaten alive in a place like that.”

Harry hums, considering. “True. But I’m sure we can come up with some kind of agreement to deal with that issue.”

Louis almost laughs out loud. Harry is, in fact, not only insane, but completely _mental_. “I would _never_ make a deal with you. Ever. Not one where me being in pain is the subject of matter.”

Harry puts a hand on the spot where his heart should be, but Louis figures it’s just an empty, mourning cage in there.

“You don’t _trust_ me?” he asks, feigning hurt.

Louis scoffs. “Oh, come off it. We’re not leaving, period.”

He crosses his arms over his chest to underline him closing for options, and sits down in the grass with his back facing Harry. Harry sighs deeply and for a very long time.

“Louis, listen,” he says after a while again, and his voice is low now, almost pleading. “This could be the best decision you’ll ever make. This could be an adventure-out-of-the-extraordinary kind. This could be _fun_.”

He knows what Harry’s trying to do. It’s painfully obvious that this is an attempt at manipulating Louis. Louis is not going to give in. He straightens his back and raises his chin in defiance.

“I know what you’re doing,” he enlightens Harry. “It’s not working.”

“I really don’t understand you, Louis,” Harry says, seemingly completely ignoring Louis’ statement. “You keep wanting to prove yourself strong and brave, but when you have a golden opportunity to turn your words into actions, you chicken out.”

“I’m not chickening out,” Louis protests. “There’s a difference between being adventurous and being _stupid_.”

“No, there’s really not.”

Louis sighs. He’s tired of the conversation now. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Fine!” Harry snaps, and Louis can feel his gaze burn into his neck. “Have it your way.”

Louis is surprised at first that Harry actually gave up, that he managed to talk Harry into doing things his way, once again, one might add. If there’s one thing he’s learned by now, it’s that even though he doesn’t like to admit it, that’s a thing where the two of them are alike; they’re both incredibly stubborn.

Louis obviously takes the crown though, because he’s won twice now. There’s Camron’s cane and then there’s the portals. He should make a list and hang it on the wall of his dorm to look at whenever he feels sad. If they’re going to have to spend a month in each other’s company, it will positively become a regular occurrence.

But then, there’s a deep sigh once again, and Harry is speaking.

(Lovely.)

“You’re such a coward,” he mumbles. “You seriously had your chance, right here to prove me wrong—which, might I add, no one’s ever done before—and instead you just proved me _right_.”

Louis purses his lips. “No, I didn’t.”

“Whatever. I guess the folks back at uni will find it very satisfying to laugh about this later.”

Louis bursts out a bitter laugh. “My world doesn’t revolve around what others think of me.”

“Louis,” Harry snorts. “That’s literally the only thing you care about. That, and pretty flowers.”

Louis _really_ wants to fight Harry. “That’s _not_ true!”

“See?” Harry smirks. “You just proved me right again.”

“Did not!” Louis flies up on his feet furiously. “I could easily walk through the portals and do things your thoughtless way if I wanted to, okay? But I am smart, Harry, and I think it’s a better option to stay here!”

Harry just pouts and studies his nails. “But how will we ever know that you’re not just bullshitting?” he figures wistfully.

“I’ll show you, alright,” Louis glares at the annoyingly indifferent soul still on the grass.

Harry looks up at him under thick eyelashes. “It’s alright, pixie. I get it. You don’t have to, I know there are some scary worlds out there. You stay here and help the grass maintain its green. I don’t blame you.”

Louis clenches his fists and scrunches his nose. Harry just smiles softly and it’s making the shorter boy nauseous with dislike.

“I can do _everything_ you think I can’t,” he growls.

“Then prove it,” Harry replies simply. He’s so calm, so very calm and Louis doesn’t do _calm_.

“Fine. But when we get back, you stay away from me and my friends. You won’t even look my way. And, of course, you will tell your ‘folks’ just how brave I am. How wrong you were.”

“ _Darling_ ,” Harry purrs. “If you actually do this, I’ll sing your praises in front of the school for weeks. Don’t worry.”

“And _how_ do I know I can trust you on this?”

Harry shrugs. “Because I keep promises that might be rewarding for me. That being said, of course, if you decide to back out again, you’ll admit to everyone that _you_ were wrong when we get back. You’ll tell everyone how I saved your sorry ass again and again and how you were so scared every single minute of the time. I probably won’t bother you anymore, though. You’re actually not that enjoyable to talk to.”

A part of Louis’ brain is practically screaming at Louis to stop what he’s doing, that he’s walking right into Harry’s trap and that he should let his wellbeing go before his ego for once in his life.

The remaining bit tells that part to shut up.

Louis listens to the ‘shut up’ part. He can do this, definitely. He’ll make Harry pay for everything he’s done to Louis. It’s a game, and Gods know Louis does love a good game. He’s ruthless.

Which, so is Harry, probably. Louis has to hand it to him, he’s probably the worthiest opponent Louis’ ever had.

This will be _fun_.

“Follow me, Styles,” he says with a serious face, and then turns on his heel to start walking.

“My pleasure,” Harry drawls with a smirk.

Louis doesn’t even look back once, but he knows Harry is right behind him for the whole walk. It’s amazingly quiet for once, neither of the boys making a sound except the sound of the gravel crunching under their feet. It’s enjoyable, Louis decides, to just listen to nature. He’s had about enough of Harry’s infuriating voice.

Unfortunately, they don’t get very far before the silence is broken.

“Wait,” Harry suddenly says lowly. “Stop walking.”

Louis groans loudly. “ _What_?” he exclaims.

“Shut _up_!”

Harry grabs him by the wrist and drags them both behind a big tree, nodding his head in the direction of a small meadow close by. Little Red Riding Hood, it seems, has apparently stopped to pick some flowers. Again. Louis rolls his eyes.

“This is not Earth, Harry. Magic is normal here, she’s allowed to see us. I’ve even talked to her once. She’s nice.”

Harry is quiet at first, and Louis guesses he doesn’t like being wrong. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand that, because Louis is probably the sorest loser there is, but it’s oddly satisfying seeing it on someone else.

“Oh,” Harry just mutters, dropping his gaze to his feet.

He’s so tall Louis is afraid he’ll get torticollis if he has to keep looking up at him this up close.

“Can we continue walking now?” he asks impatiently, pulling his wrist out of Harry’s grip.

“No, wait,” Harry protests. He’s still watching the young woman in the meadow. “Things are getting interesting.”

“What are you even – “

“Sssshhh!” Harry shushes him furiously, which –

 _Absolutely not_.

Louis looks affronted, feeling more insulted than he’s felt so far in his life.

“Did you just _hush_ me, Harry Styles?” he fumes.

“Will you _shut your face_ for three seconds, Louis? Honestly. There’s a wolf there. I want to see if he’s going to hurt her.”

Louis frowns and his head snaps to look at the happenings out on the meadow again.

“You’re _abominable_ ,” he whispers, just to inform the spirit that he most certainly does not approve.

Harry just snorts. “How many dictionaries have you swallowed in your life?”

What happens is just what Louis suspects; it’s the same wolf he’s seen around a couple of times before. It’s big and has a soft caramel fur not a lot unlike Louis’ own hair colour, and it’s tentatively approaching Red Riding Hood as if it’s afraid she’ll scream and run away.

She doesn’t, though, she just lights up and greets the wolf, reaching out a hand to stroke the smooth hair. The wolf seems extremely content with this, mewling appreciatively and melting into her touch.

It’s really, truly, touchingly cute. Louis sighs happily.

Harry sighs disappointedly.

“Dammit,” he swears. “I was really hoping that would go somewhere interesting.”

Louis just gives him a severely unimpressed look, pouring every single negative feeling he can muster into it and just stares for a couple of seconds for Harry to really get the genuine feeling of _you are such a shameful waste of oxygen_ , and then he turns back to watch the pair in the meadow.

Red Riding Hood is carefully putting all of her flowers down in her basket, holding a quiet one way conversation with the wolf. Louis is moved by her kindness. He does indeed admire people who are nice to animals. Animals are far too good for these worlds. They should be acknowledged for their efforts.

It doesn’t take long until the girl has to get going again, though, and she stands up. Her delicate hands brush the grass off of her red hood, and she gives the wolf one last pet before skipping off further into the woods.

The wolf stands still on its place for a while. It look so alone now all of a sudden, and Louis has the urge to walk up and hug it. He whines helplessly.

“We need to do something,” he whispers to Harry.

Harry stares at Louis at first, and then with furrowed eyebrows into the void as if he can’t deal with Louis’ compassion. “Louis, this was a waste of time. Let’s just go.”

“But look at him,” Louis pleads, jutting out his bottom lip. “He looks like he could use some kindness.”

“Which is why I really don’t want to go out to—holy _shit_.” Harry interrupts himself, eyes flying wide open and his jaw dropping with surprise. “Okay. Wow. Fuck.”

“Look, is your vocabulary really so poor that you always feel the need to—“

Harry doesn’t even listen to him, he just grabs the shorter boy’s shoulders to turn him in the wolf’s direction.

Or, the wolf’s past direction. Because there is no wolf in the meadow anymore.

There’s a man in the exact same spot. A man only wearing a pair of shorts. A half-naked man sitting in the grass with resignation slumping his shoulders.

Louis squints his eyes in confusion. “What – “

“That’s the _wolf_ ,” Harry says. “He’s a shape shifter.”

“Are you sure?” Which, that might not have been the best response, but Louis doesn’t really know what to say.

He admits that he’s confused; wolf shape shifters are supposed to be unpredictable, dangerous creatures with hot tempers and hurtful impulses.

But that’s not what this looks like—the creature before them just looks sad. He looks so hopelessly dejected that Louis just can’t help it anymore. He needs to help this poor creature. He can’t keep walking knowing that this lovely man is sitting in all his loneliness like this; it’s just not right.

So he emerges from the tree, letting out a simple “Hey!” to get the shape shifter’s attention.

The man flinches and flies up on his feet immediately, looking around to find the source of the sound. When he sees Louis standing only a few feet away, he seems to relax a little, but then his eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Who are you?”

Louis smiles sunnily. “I’m Louis. I’m a fairy. What’s your name?”

The other man—boy?—still looks slightly wary as he answers. “Liam.”

“Liam,” Louis repeats, smile not vanishing for a second. “What a lovely name. I think that’s a lovely name. What are you doing here?”

The man—Liam blushes. “Oh, nothing, really. Just. You know. Thinking.”

“Thinking’s nice. What were you thinking about?”

“Erm, you know. Just stuff.” Liam shifts a little to look behind Louis. “Who’s your… Friend?”

Louis turns to look behind him. Harry is leaning on his shoulder against the tree they were previously hiding behind, his arms crossed and his lips pursed. He flashes them a tight smile.

“Oh,” Louis smile drops a little. “That’s Harry and we’re not friends. He hurts people for a living.”

Liam looks understandably alarmed. “How… nice?”

“It’s alright, he won’t do anything,” Louis assures him. “Right, Harry?”

“Of course not,” Harry replies flatly, inspecting his nails. Louis rolls his eyes.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he continues, concentrating on Liam. “You looked kind of lonely and I thought, maybe you wanted some company.”

Liam smiles, albeit sadly. “That’s nice of you. But uh, I think I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Hear that, Louis?” Harry calls from his spot. “He’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

“If you want to go so badly, then find the way yourself,” Louis snaps, and turns back to Liam. “I feel like something’s bothering you. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Harry groans. “ _You’re_ bothering him, pixie. Stop it.”

Louis turns and fixes Harry with a look, “I’m sorry, but when, exactly, did I ask for your opinion?” Liam just looks carefully between the two a couple of times, as if he’s trying to make sense of their relation to each other. “Why are you two even here together?”

Louis waves his hand dismissively. “Long story. Let’s not get into details. Now, let’s talk, yes? Let’s talk about your frown.”

The shape shifter scratches his neck uncomfortably. “It’s nothing. You don’t have to—“

“Does it have anything to do with the lovely Little Red Riding Hood?” Louis cuts him off gently.

That certainly seems to get Liam’s attention, at least. His face turn a charming shade of red and he looks down on his rough hands.

“Her name is Sophia, actually,” he mumbles. “How did you—“

“I know this place. I know the people. No biggie.” Louis’ smile turns a tad smug. “Do you have a crush on her? She is really pretty. Very kind, too. I can see the appeal.”

Liam looks like he wants to sink through the ground, and that’s the moment where Harry chooses to walk up to them and officially join the conversation.

“Louis, seriously. You’re making him uncomfortable.”

“Like you’d do this any better.”

Harry splutters in disbelief, but Louis has already set his attention back on his blushing new acquaintance.

“Why haven’t you made a move yet?” he presses. “She’s lovely. _You’re_ lovely. Why don’t you go and be lovely together?”

Liam’s eyes are shifting between Louis, Harry, his hands and the trees around them. His forehead is wrinkled in confusion, and he shakes his head. Louis thinks that maybe wolf isn’t exactly the most fitting animal for him. He looks like a lost puppy, really, with big, brown eyes that reminds Louis of melting chocolate, combined with thick eyebrows and full lips that’s always slightly pouting.

Maybe he should turn into a golden retriever or something, really. Wolves are supposed to be predators and Liam feels like a loyal family dog.

“I don’t even know what’s going on,” Liam states, scratching his head. “I don’t – listen, it’s no use to try and play matchmaker or whatever it is you’re doing. She’d never look my way.”

It’s evident that he believes that, and Louis frowns. He doesn’t like people unhappy. He wants Liam to be happy and in love and he’s determined to make him so before leaving Grimm’s Village.

“Well, have you actually talked to her? Like, you know. As a human.”

“This is so weird,” Liam mutters to himself. “No, I haven’t. I couldn’t, I – I’d just stutter and trip on my words and probably end up insulting her and—no. It’s a lot better this way. It’s a lot better.”

“But I bet she’d like you. I like you. You’re likeable. Come on, let’s talk to her!”

“I really don’t think…”

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life!”

“I’ll regret it if I _do_ it,” Liam counters.

“What is it with people denying themselves happiness?” Louis exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “This pining thing isn’t going to make you happy! Why aren’t you just going for it? Why are you not going for something that could make you happy? _Love_ will make you happy!”

Harry laughs then, but it’s bitter. “Oh, Louis. You don’t know a lot about human emotions, do you?”

Louis doesn’t understand; what is he missing? What’s with the games? Is love supposed to be this complicated? It’s not. Love is supposed to be like breathing. That’s what he’s been told since he was born.

Harry must see the cluelessness on his face, because he shakes his head, sighing.

“People don’t just ‘go for it’,” he explains, “Because they’re afraid of being _hurt_.”

He doesn’t give Louis a chance to answer, but turns to Liam with a smile that’s apologetic borderline amused.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” he says, his tone dripping with patronisation. “Louis is going through some kind of world view existential crisis. He’s not the most understanding soul. I’m just going to take him with me and we’re going to leave…”

“ _No_!” Louis glares at the taller boy, his fists turning into small balls of frustration. “Listen, you two. Everything is not as hopeless as you play it out to be. Things are simple! Love is simple and enjoyable, and it’s worth taking a little risk. We’re going to Little Red Riding Hood’s granny, and you’re meeting her. Let’s go. It’s this way, right?”

He rises on his feet and points along the path. Harry groans and runs a hand through his messy locks.

“Louis, you’re being ridiculous. We’ve got nothing to do with this.”

Louis refrains from sticking his tongue out at Harry. “We do now!”

Liam just sits in his place, hesitantly watching the fairy standing by the edge of the meadow, waiting for him and Harry to follow suit. He breathes heavily as if he’s trying to get accustomed to what he’s gotten into here, and then he also stands up.

“Fine. Let’s do it, yeah? Let’s do it. But you’re helping me.”

And just like that, Louis lights up again, and he claps his hands excitedly. “Thank you, Liam! See, a real champion, you are. Let’s get your girl!”

He doesn’t even look Harry’s way as he asks “coming, Curly?” and starts walking.

Harry just mutters unintelligibly as he stands up and follows them.

“Don’t ever call me Curly again, by the way,” he murmurs when he’s caught up to the other two boys and is walking next to Louis.

Louis just smiles contentedly. “Sure, Curly.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and he huffs. “It’s on then. Pixie.”

 

~

 

Every fairy in the Grimm Forest knows where Granny’s house is.

It’s well known, because Granny has taken a particular liking to the fairies. She sets out cookies and pastries and milk and lemonade on her porch for them to take, and in return, Louis and his friends provides her with an evergreen, colourful garden. She’s endlessly nice, the old lady; always loving some company and she always makes sure to thank the natures creatures in the woods when she sees them. Louis treasures gratefulness.

So it’s not that hard to find the way, considering that Louis has memorised the way perfectly and that Liam’s got this really cool super sensitive sense of smell. They make a good team, the two of them. Harry just kind of walks behind them, muttering and whining about that they need to get going already and moping when he’s ignored.

It’s like music to Louis’ ears.

“So,” he starts, an attempt at making Liam speak again. He’s awfully quiet. “When did you meet her?”

Liam shrugs. “It was a couple of months ago. I was, you know, I was lying around in that meadow. As a wolf, right. And she just came by because she thought the flowers were pretty and she was going over to her grandmother’s.” He smiles a little. “I thought she was going to be scared, but she wasn’t. She was really nice. I guess… I guess it just kind of went on from there.”

The fairy sighs dreamily. “That’s so cute.”

Liam tries to suppress the smile on his lips. Louis decides he really likes him.

“So,” Liam says. “How _did_ you get here?”

“Oh.” Louis is torn between being snarky about it and tell him to ask Harry and throwing himself into the story with the enthusiasm of his life.

He falls somewhere in between.

“Well. We come from University of the Three, right? And basically, what happened was, that Harry was being a right _prick_ , and I defended myself, because I don’t take crap. And, well, long story short, we ended up in the hallway in the basement where all the portal rooms are, and Harry had the _nerve_ to push me up against a door that someone then opened, and then we fell through the portal in there and landed here.”

Harry snorts. “It’s not like you’re innocent, pixie. Congratulations, though. You said ‘prick’ without imploding.”

“I literally do not care about anything you have to say.”

“Wait…” Liam frowns. “So… Harry is not a human?”

“No,” Harry and Louis say in unison.

“I told you. He hurts people. He’s a spirit. It’s his job. He was born terrible.” Harry ‘accidently’ steps on Louis’ foot. Louis swats his shoulder. “I was only telling the truth,” he mutters.

“Oh.” Liam blushes a little. “I’m sorry, you just… Your marks are black, so I figured they were just human made tattoos or something. I though spirits only had blue marks.” He gestures to Harry’s arms to show that he means the black spiral tattoos that makes their way up and down his defined muscles.

“No, you’re right,” Harry mutters. “Spirits from the Norse have blue marks, but I’m from the Greek. I’m not a spirit of emotion in this world. I… I serve Earth.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds.

Then something clicks for Louis, and he gasps.

“You utter _dimwit_ ,” he exclaims, looking at Harry in almost shocked realization.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Look, mate, these names has got to go—“

“You’re _powerless_.” Louis can feel his face going hot, and he probably would’ve been ashamed if his body wasn’t filled to the brink with utter _rage_. “You don’t possess more magical powers than a human here. That’s why you’re in such a hurry to leave, isn’t it? _Isn’t it_?”

Harry holds up his hands in defense. “Okay, first off, there’s magic here. I still possess spiritual traits. Calm down. You’re turning into an actual tomato.”

“But you can’t _hurt_ anyone. You are such a little traitor,” Louis fumes. “I should’ve known there was something more to that stupid bet. It wasn’t about you wanting to come back to UoT. You just wanted to leave _Grimm_.”

“You’re making a way too big deal out of this,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Am I, though? Am I _really_?” Louis glares at the taller boy with such intensity his eyes should’ve devoured him right there. Unfortunately, Louis had no such luck. “Deal’s off. We’re staying here. We’re staying here and I’m getting you into as many life threatening situations I possibly can, you intolerable moron!”

Harry is way too calm about this. “You done now?”

Louis is one tiny movement from tearing every single strand of hair off Harry’s head. He gives out a growl, although not a very scary one, and then he just points at Harry one last time.

“You shouldn’t be so calm,” he snaps. “I’m not kidding. I will actually try my best to ruin you.”

Harry laughs. “Okay, pixie. Whatever.”

Louis is about ready to punch him, when Liam clears his throat loudly, and the attention shifts to him. He looks earnestly at the two boys.

“Could we just get on with this, please?”

Louis breathes. “Of course,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

The rest of the way isn’t really filled with small talk, probably because Louis was the one keeping the conversations up, and now he’s too busy planning ways to make Harry pay for being a greedy, selfish liar. Maybe he should have Harry meet the ogres. Or one of the sea monsters. That _would_ be marvelous, wouldn’t it?

When they finally reaches the little nice cabin, his mood lightens again, though. He can smell the cinnamon buns and that little extract of lemon in the air, and it’s almost making his mouth water. He hasn’t eaten in very long, he belatedly realises. Hopefully his tummy won’t protest loudly. _That_ could be awkward.

“Okay,” he whispers excitedly. “Here we are. If we just sneak our way to the other side, yeah? Granny has got a beautiful pair of raspberry bushes there, helped growing them myself. We should be able to hide behind there, and you know, wait for the perfect moment.” _And let Louis eat some of the berries because food is important for surviving._

They do as Louis says, quietly creeping behind the house and out on the opposite side, peeking through the bushes. There’s not a lot of room, so they all have to be very, very close to each other. Louis is the smallest, and apparently it seemed to be a good idea to press him up in the middle of the two freakishly tall and muscly boys.

This is his life, he thinks. This is his legacy.

He almost sheds a tear at the thought, but then Red Riding Hood—Sohpia— emerges from inside the house. She’s holding a cup with some kind of warm liquid inside it, the steams dancing in the air.

“Okay,” Louis whispers to Liam. “It’s your time, mate. Soon. Wait… Just…”

Louis is just about to give the shape shifter the cue to approach the object (not that he thinks of Red Rid— Sophia as an object, but, you know. To get that mission-y feeling.), but then he stops. Someone seems to have gotten there before them.

There is a man walking on the path where they had just been, a man with big arms and a ridiculous medieval hat and a rifle hanging on his back. A pretty handsome man, if Louis says so himself.

Said man calls out a greeting when he’s close enough, and Sophia’s entire face lights up like a thousand stars when she hears it. Louis widens his eyes alarmingly, and all three of them watches as she runs up to the man, throwing her arms around his neck. They then proceed to have some very warm locking of their eyes and then—

Oh. Right.

They then proceed to snog with much fervor.

Red Riding Hood is in a happy relationship with the Huntsman.

“Feel like a dick yet?” Harry murmurs to him, and Louis just elbows him in the arm because he does. He does feel horrible, actually. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Red Riding Hood was supposed to be available and she was supposed to see Liam and it was supposed to be love at first sight.

But now, when Louis looks at Liam’s sad, forlorn eyes, he knows that he just made absolutely everything worse.

“I don’t need moral lessons from you,” he settles for as a suitable retort to cover up his guilt. Harry just sighs.

“He’s going to propose,” Harry whispers then, probably just to fuel Louis’ remorse. “He’s got a box in his pocket.”

And, yeah. There is an outline of a small, square box, right there in the Huntsman’s front pocket.

Louis is going to throw up.

“This wasn’t meant to happen,” he mumbles. His voice breaks a little at the end, and he wants to kick himself for being so thoughtless.

Liam doesn’t look at him.

“Can we go?” he just asks quietly and Louis genuinely feels like crying.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Of course.”

 

~

 

It’s a bit of a heavy walk away from there.

Louis fights to hold back tears the whole way. It’s hard to, first of all, see the broken look on Liam’s face and then, to see the drooping sulking of his shoulders. Louis is not insensitive, right—it’s more like the opposite, and he can’t help but feel bad.

But the thing with Louis is that he doesn’t know how to handle these things, really. He doesn’t really know what it is, but there is always something that prevents him from showing solemn vulnerability. He’s not got the foggiest to why it’s like that, but it’s just always there, and it feels like concrete walls closing in on him every time he’s done something seriously wrong, and they’re just suffocating him until Louis has claimed a failure of a situation to be on someone else. It doesn’t go away until he’s made everyone forget it the best that he can, and right now, it’s almost suffocating, and he really doesn’t like it.

This is not that bad, he assures himself. This is not his fault. _Really_.

“Okay, so that was a bit of a bummer, wasn’t it? But hey, we’ll get over it. Won’t we?”

He looks hopefully between Harry and Liam. Liam doesn’t look at him, and Harry sighs, irritated. No one answers.

Louis laughs a bit too obnoxiously. “Come on now, let’s turn those frowns upside down. It’s alright. We’re fine, aren’t we?”

No answer. Louis is growing slightly frantic.

“Okay, look, Liam—we have to see the bright side of things, yeah? This might even be good. You know, she probably wasn’t even that great. She’s the one missing out. You’re better off like this.”

“Louis?” Liam snaps, and Louis flinches. So it’s not working that well, then. “Just drop it, please?”

“But I don’t see why we would have to,” Louis protests in attempt at defending himself. “This is a new start in your life, Liam. Embrace it!”

“ _Louis_.” Liam sounds angry now. “Please just stop talking, okay?”

Louis’ heart is itching a little. He feels even smaller than he did before, and he realizes there is actually nothing he can do to cheer Liam up. Something uncomfortable pools at the bottom of his stomach. He looks at Harry as a last, desperate resort for forgiveness and help.

Obviously, Harry doesn’t oblige. Because he’s a… He’s a _twat_.

Instead, he snorts and suppresses a smile. “I’m almost proud, to be honest. Didn’t know you had it in you to fuck up like this.”

Louis elbows his side. “You’re the worst soul I know.”

“Maybe,” Harry smirks, and then he continues in a lower voice. “But at least I’m not the worst soul Liam knows at the moment, am I?”

It stings, and Louis has to look away to hide the flash of hurt on his face to reach Harry’s eyes. It’s not fair. Harry purposely messes things up. It’s his job. Louis didn’t mean to. Louis actually feels bad. He hates how Liam won’t look at him, he hates how he won’t pay attention to Louis’ attempt at making peace, or just smile, or anything. The worst thing is, he knows what word would be very fitting right know. He knows exactly what he should say, but that word seems to only be effortless for him until he’s _genuinely_ messed something up. Louis is afraid of making everything even worse, so he tries to not talk at all, but in the end he can’t help it.

“Are you very angry with me?” he asks Liam quietly.

Liam seems to notice the change of approach, and he moves his gaze down to look at the fairy.

And Louis must look so hopelessly small, so heartbreakingly vulnerable, so unbearably innocent, he must look like a little _child_ , because Liam’s hard look falters, and he just sighs.

“I guess not,” he answers, kicking a pebble absently with his bare feet. “I’m sure you meant well. It’s just, I think I had probably preferred just admiring from afar, you know?”

“Yeah,” Louis swallows. He knows that there is this one word that he should probably get out, but he can’t. “Hey, let’s just forget this, yeah? Let’s do something else.”

“Um,” Harry cuts in then. He’s been quiet for a surprising amount of time, Louis is almost amazed. He’d expected Harry to be close to ecstatic, making the absolute best—or worst—out of the situation. He’d expected teasing and sneering and smug smirks, but the spirit has actually been remarkably tolerable. The small accomplishments. “I think we should actually just be on our way, shouldn’t we? Come on, we’ve bothered Liam enough.”

Louis laughs loudly. “Yeah, no. Not happening. Deal is over, remember? We’re not going anywhere.”

“Where were you planning on going?” Liam asks quietly.

Louis is about to answer, but Harry beats him to it. “Well, we had made a _deal_ , that we would try to get back to the University. You know, by just taking chances on the portals and see where we get. I don’t know, _I_ thought it would be fun to explore a little, but our little princess friend here I guess is just not feeling it anymore.”

“Oh,” Liam looks down on his feet. “I’ve always wanted to see the worlds. Never had the chance, though.”

 _Oh, come_ on _._

Why did he have to say that? Why does Liam have to secretly be interested in the worlds? Why couldn’t he be a coward who would rather stay on solid ground where he knows he belongs and rest in meadows all day while his shape shifter friends want to be out exploring? Why does Liam just _have_ to have an unpredicted thirst for adventure? Why can’t Liam be _boring_?

Because Louis knows what’s coming now. He can see it in the glint in Harry’s eyes and the slow turn on his head and the way the corners of his mouth is perking up, and—

“ _Really_?”

Yeah, Louis is doomed to fail.

Harry shifts over so that he’s now between Louis and Liam, throwing an arm around the tall lad. “What about you come with us, then? Maybe you know the way to a portal?”

“I don’t,” Liam bites his lip. “Besides, they’re all blocked now anyway. To get to another world at this point, we would have to find someone who made their own. And that’s someone who knows their way with very dark and very powerful magic.”

_Yes! Screw you, Harry._

“Oh, how sad,” Louis says, and he really isn’t sad at all. “Looks like we’ll have to…”

“You don’t happen to know someone like that?” Harry interrupts hopefully.

“I don’t,” Liam repeats, but this time he looks a little more encouraged. “… I know someone who might, though.”

_What? No!_

Harry beams like today is the best day of his life, though. “Fantastic! Let’s go then, shall we?”

And then Liam actually smiles a little, he smiles because of _Harry’s_ actions, and isn’t that just the biggest irony of the century.

The two boys look over to Louis, who’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you coming or not, pixie?” Harry asks, and his entire body just screams _I win, I win, I win_.

Louis doesn’t answer directly. He’s kind of busy trying to come up with a witty retort, actually, and Harry sighs exasperatedly.

“Come on, Louis! Isn’t this the least you can do for this guy?”

Louis spends the rest of the walk concentrating on the soft sound his feet are making when they’re pressing footmarks into the grass. It sounds like defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's liam for you!!! wohoo!! 
> 
> like last time, thank you to tj for betaing this mess, and thank you for reading :) next chapter will be up next wednesday/thursday unless there are any interferences. xxxx
> 
> you are still welcome to talk to me on tumblr @a-bit-extraordilarry bc even though i am awkward it'd make me v happy c:
> 
>  
> 
> update: the chapter will be posted a little later than planned, but i promise that i'll put it up as soon as i can :)


	6. chapter 5; the village of grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

The house is gorgeous, big and white, and after a quick glance at the garden Louis can tell these people are fairy favorites, too. He’s never really been to the actual town before, though, has never felt that it was necessary so he’s never seen any of it before. Now, however he might need to reconsider that choice.

It’s terribly cute, it really is; like a good early morning dream, like a snuggly bed time story, or like a mid-day walk in the sunshine. Everyone’s so nice, as well, happily greeting each other as they pass by, and Louis now understands why the wicked ones keep to the deep forest— this kind of kindness would probably be toxic to them.

Speaking of toxic, Harry also seems impressed by the luxurious house. He whistles, shoving his hands in his pockets and throwing Liam a wide eyed look.

“So,” he utters. “Whose house is this, then?”

Liam gives them a crooked smile. “It’s my friend’s house. I guess she’s got kind of… Experience with the dark magic practitioners.”

“Awesome.” Harry flashes Louis another grin. He hasn’t stopped being cocky since Louis had to agree to coming along. Louis has probably ripped out half of his hair at this point.

The three of them enter the extravagant building, without bothering to knock or anything, and Liam is noticeably more relaxed now that he’s in a more familiar environment. He calls out his friend’s name a couple of times, listening after answers or footsteps.

“Jesy?” He hollers. “Jesy?” When he gets not reply, he sighs heavily. “Great, she’s probably asleep then. Amazing.”

Louis and Harry exchange a curious look and follow their new friend (Liam’s a friend, right? He’s a friend. Louis would like to think he’s a friend now) as he moves further into the building, towards a set of graceful, white marblestairs with a beautiful, winding mahogany handrail.

They find Liam’s friend snuggled up in an armchair, and just like Liam predicted, fast asleep.

Louis understands then, looking at her, that this is Sleeping Beauty. She had been quite the conversational topic when a prince finally woke her up from her sleep a couple of years ago. She’s almost like a celebrity, Louis thinks, and he blushes.

He and Harry quietly stand back to watch Liam carefully approach the girl, shaking her shoulder lightly.

“Jesy?” He mutters, softly. “Jess. Hey.”

The girl, Jesy, startles awake with a confused frown, eyes darting quickly around the place to locate herself. When she realizes she’s still at home, and that Liam is there, she sighs and smiles apologetically.

“Hi, Li. What’s up?” she says, voice drowsy and thick with sleep.

Liam’s tone is soft. “Sorry for waking you, but I really need your help.”

“Of course.” She stretches and sighs, waking up more by the minute.

Liam smiles a little. “Okay. Jesy, I want you to meet Harry and Louis. They’re… New friends of mine.”

Jesy blinks and looks both of them up and down a few times, eyes cautiously suspicious.

“You’re not from here,” she states simply, probably referring to Harry more than Louis, but Louis is still the one who answers.

“No,” he says nervously. “I’m from the Forest and he’s from the Greek—but we came from University of the Three.”

She hums in understanding. “Broken portals?”

Both boys nod.

“Speaking of,” Harry starts, daring to shoot her a smile that dimples his cheeks innocently. “We really need to get back to the University, but all of the main portals are unfortunately blocked at the moment -”

“Basically, what we’re asking here, Jess,” Liam interrupts, “is if you know someone who has a portal of their own?” He looks at his sleepy friend hopefully.

Jesy raises her eyebrows at him. “You are aware that those kind of portals are also, in fact, malfunctioning, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Liam tries. “It was going to be an adventure, you know? And… I sort of want to come along?”

“You… What?” Jesy is plainly staring at him now. “Liam. Do you know what could happen? What if you ended up in Hel? Or Tartaros? Do you know what they do to people in Tartaros?”

Harry coughs uncomfortably. “I do. I, um. I’ll make sure we’ll be fine.”

Jesy massages her temples. “Great. That makes me feel much better. Cheers.”

“Look,” Louis cuts in, trying to make the situation better. “I like this just as little as you do. But we’re all capable of taking care of ourselves—and each other, if that would be necessary.” He’s pretty sure that last thing is a lie. Harry wouldn’t save Louis from anything. But still. “We’ll take care of Liam if he, for some reason, wouldn’t be able to himself. To be honest, we just want to get back to the University.”

“I’m sure you do, love, but…” The girl still looks doubtful. “I don’t want to encourage you to do something that involves dark magic, because Dark magic is heavy stuff,” she explains, looking at them, forlorn. “I mean, look at me. I got a sleeping curse cast on me, and from the moment I woke up I’ve always been tired. I fall asleep all the time, and I can’t even do anything about it. I’ll go shopping in town and I’ll just collapse on the floor. I have trouble sleeping when I’m actually supposed to. Sometimes I even hallucinate when I’m either waking up or falling asleep. I can’t do anything.” She sighs, smiling sadly. “What kind of life is that?”

Louis feels for her. His lower lip even quivers a little upon hearing the girl’s voice crack, but he quickly scolds himself for that kind of weakness, biting down on his lip instead. He tries to not feel so bad, but he really can’t. He just hates seeing people unhappy like this; it tears him apart to a place of hopeless devastation and he can’t hold that back.

“That is awful,” he declares, but his voice is wobbly. “That is terrible. I hate that you have to live with that. It’s not—it’s not right. You deserve to be free, you deserve to live a normal life, you deserve—“

There’s a quiet cough from behind him, and Louis stops himself. He’s getting carried away again. Right. He quickly blinks away the wetness in his eyes and sniffles once, pulling himself together.

_Don’t be a baby, Louis. Harry will give you crap for it later. Don’t let Harry see you cry._

“Anyway.” Louis scratches his neck. “I, um, I know about dark magic. Not as much as you, obviously, but we are taught the basics in case something would happen. I’ll be careful. I know what to avoid, yeah? We’ll be fine.”

“Please, Jesy,” Liam pleads. “Please, tell us where that portal is. I’ve always wanted this, remember? I’ve told you about it for years and years. This is my chance.”

Silence settles over them, and Jesy seems to be considering it. Eventually, she sighs in resignation.

“Well,” she utters with hesitance. “It’s said Mother Gothel has one in her tower. No one has ever been able to find that tower, though. I think she’s cast some kind of spell over it that makes it invisible to humans.”

Louis’ back straightens rapidly with pride, all of his unhappiness immediately forgotten. “I know where it is. It’s Rapunzel’s tower, right?” He tries not to sound too smug.

Jesy stares at him for a while. “Right. I guess. Yes. Be really careful, though? You do not want Gothel to catch you.”

“You don’t have to worry one bit,” Louis beams pompously, all negative emotions suddenly wiped away from his memory. “I’ve totally got this.”

If he had looked back at Liam and Harry, he would have seen Harry rolling his eyes and Liam’s gaze moving between Louis and Jesy hesitantly.

Jesy smiles at the fairy, though. “Then good luck, I guess. But take care of Liam for me.”

Louis sincerely promises her that they will. They turn to leave, but just before they walk out of the room, Harry stops a little, as if there’s something left he wants to do or say, but then he shakes his head and keeps walking.

Louis frowns in confusion, but he doesn’t mention it.

 

~

 

Rapunzel’s castle is secluded and old and quite hard to find. Louis enlightens Harry and Liam at least five times that they are extremely lucky to have him there to guide them. Mostly because he can’t stand the thought of Liam liking Harry, Harry, more than Louis, and the fairy is eager to prove that he’s actually the loveliest creature around. Because he is. Louis is fantastic.

Louis is also still not sure how to turn this situation to his advantage. Right now Harry’s got the upper hand, getting Liam to join them and making it two against one on the leaving issue. Louis gets that he’s probably, unfortunately, lost that one. What he needs to do, is he needs to find a way to make this the best thing that could possibly happen for him.

Sure, he’d have chances to prove to Harry that he is more than nature caring and cute. But he kind of doesn’t just want to show Harry. Louis wants to show everyone, he wants to show the evil and the good, his friends and his family, the dead and the living, he wants to grab the Gods’ attention and hold it for a while, he wants to make sure no one forgets his name.

That has always been his number one dream. He wants to be remembered—he wants to be praised and loved and he wants to experience all those things that he’s heard the humans talk about during his working years in Grimm’s Village.

That’s when he is roughly awakened from his daydreams by snapping fingers an inch from his face.

“Louis? Mate, we’ve been walking for ages. Please tell me that wreck of a tower over there is what we’re looking for.”

Harry’s pleading voice is right; they’re here. Finally.

Louis smiles. “Yeah, that’s it. Look, what we’re going to do is, we’re going to wait a little while more. Mother Gothel will leave the place in only a little while for her daily round, and that’s when we need to get in there and talk to Rapunzel. Hopefully she’ll be able to help us.”

Harry scowls. “What, we’re wasting more time? I can handle Mother Gothel. We’ll be fine.”

“No, you can’t,” Louis replies, his voice matter-of-fact. “You’re powerless. You can’t ‘handle’ anyone with magical powers at the moment.”

Harry sniffs. “Liam can bite her head off, then. Big deal.”

“I’m not a violent person,” Liam interjects quietly.

Louis nods in Liam’s direction with a pointed look at Harry. “Exactly. We’re waiting.”

Harry just huffs, but he doesn’t push it further.

The three boys hide behind a couple of bushy trees, Louis and Harry quietly bickering with Liam rolling his eyes at them, and taking turns on keeping an eye on the tower. It’s during Liam’s turn that it finally happens.

Liam clears this throat. “Guys.”

“I don’t care what you say, the Gods of Asgard are so much better than the Olympians.”

“Are you serious? Your Gods are dependent on golden apples to not age. If that doesn’t scream weak, I don’t know what does. Gods aren’t supposed to have physical weaknesses.”

“Guys.”

“Your main ruler is a _rapist.”_

“Oh trust me, there are few people I dislike more than Zeus. I know.”

“Well, then. Looks like we agree on something.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“How divine.”

“Pretentious twat.”

“Atrocious abomination.”

“Oh, look at the breathing synonym dictionary go.”

“ _Guys_!” Liam all but growls.

The boys flinch and turn their gazes to Liam. The brown eyed boy is looking at them, very unimpressed. A familiar heat rises to Louis’ cheeks.

“What I wanted to say,” Liam speaks, “is that Mother Gothel has left. She disappeared into the forest in the opposite direction a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Louis adjusts his feathery fringe. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

They carefully approach the tower, Liam muttering something about the other two being “ _un-fucking-believable_ ”, which Louis chooses to generously ignore. Harry just follows right behind him, footsteps being almost completely silent, and Louis makes a mental note to never let Harry out of sight enough for him sneak up on the fairy. That would just be uncomfortable for everyone.

Standing in front of the awfully tall home of Rapunzel, Liam almost looks a little intimidated. He looks to Louis for help.

“So, how do we get up there?”

“Well,” Harry answers right before Louis gets the chance to, “That won’t be a problem for me. Louis flies. Try climbing, mate.”

“Quit being a jerk,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Have none of you heard of this? You shout at her to let down her hair. Then you climb.” He scoffs. “Idiot.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Wait, really? Man, I just thought that part was the Earth humans being intoxicated and creative. That’s amazing.” His eyes are glinting with humor. “Well, then, go on, Liam.”

Liam gives him an annoyed look, and Louis is kind of glad that he also seem to find Harry annoying. Maybe then he would favor Louis instead. Louis really can’t imagine anyone preferring Harry’s company over his own for a longer period of time. That’s just not right.

Liam does what the spirit says, though, doubtingly looking up at the lonely window right below the pointy roof, and then he half yells:

“Rapunzel… Let down your hair?”

At first nothing happens, but then sounds are heard, and suddenly a mass of golden, silky and not to mention massively long hair is falling through the opening and all the way down to the boys, almost gracing the straws of grass below.

All they can do at first is stare disbelievingly at the glorious mane before them, but then Liam takes a deep breath and pops his knuckles.

“Right, then,” he sighs. “Let’s do this.”

Louis and Harry stay on the ground for a while as Liam starts to climb with great stamina and speed, and Harry whistles, obviously impressed.

“Damn,” he states, tilting his head to study Liam’s back muscles. “I’d fuck him.”

Louis snaps his head in the curly haired boy’s direction, giving him a look of genuine repulsion. “You are so _vulgar.”_

Harry beams. “Thank you very much. I grew up in an inspiring environment.”

Louis just rolls his eyes and snorts, completely ignoring Harry’s amused smirk.

“What, does it bother you?” he taunts. “Does little Louis not like bad words?”

“Shut up,” Louis murmurs, focusing his gaze on Liam climbing Rapunzel’s hair like a real champ. He’s almost there, so Louis figures they should get going. He doesn’t like the turn this conversation is taking.

“We should get up there,” he states nonchalantly. “Or would you rather stay down here and keep watch?”

“All I would want to watch from down here just disappeared into the window.”

Louis makes a disgusted sound and elbows Harry. Harry laughs and Louis flies as quickly as he can up to the top of the tower, fluttering his beloved wings as fast as possible. His wings must be what he treasures the most on his body. They never fail him; always eager to obey and always perfectly in sync with his mind’s needs. He does kind of pity the creatures who have to live without them.

Harry is already up there when Louis also flies through the small window, and what meets his eyes when he lands is quite the sight, really; Harry is standing casually in the corner, a girl is hyperventilating on the other side of the window, and Liam is doing his best to calm her down.

“Look, hey, shhh,” he tries. “We’re not going to hurt you. We need your help.”

The girl, Rapunzel presumably, doesn’t stop shaking, and she clutches her hair tightly as if it’s her lifeline. Her blue eyes are wide and frightened. Louis looks between Harry, who’s just grinning at the whole situation, and Liam, who’s obviously becoming more and more distressed by the minute.

Louis decides to step in and save the day.

So he puts on his very best smile, he points his toes inwards, clasps his hands together, and skips up to the pair.

“Hello!” he greets Rapunzel overly cheerily. “My name is Louis. I’m a fairy. You might have seen me and my friends outside your house before. And you don’t have to be afraid; no one’s harming you. You’re Rapunzel, right?”

Rapunzel looks at him suspiciously, but she’s not shaking as violently. “Please don’t call me that.”

Louis’ smile fades a little in confusion. “Um. Alright. What would you like me to call you, then?”

“I, um,” Rapunzel—or not, apparently—bites her lip. “Taylor. My real name is Taylor.”

She doesn’t say anything else, so Louis takes this as a sign to keep going. He does.

“Hi, Taylor. You have such lovely hair,” he compliments her. “I mean, here I was thinking that my own hair was the nicest thing around, but I got to hand it to you, I think you take the price.”

Taylor doesn’t look that amused. “I hate it.”

“Really?” Louis’ eyes widen a little. Okay then. She doesn’t seem all too eager to cooperate.

“It’s always in the way, it takes hours to brush and it suffocates me when I try to sleep.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Well then. Why haven’t you cut it off?”

“Mother won’t let me.” Taylor frowns. “She needs it.”

“That is the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard,” Louis declares. “It’s your hair, isn’t it? It’s on your head. It should be up to you what to do with it, right? Gothel can get herself a ladder if she’s determined to get in that way.”

The girl’s back straightens more by the minute, and she nods aggressively. Score. “Right? I think so, too. But I’m not strong enough to do anything about it. She’s too powerful.” Taylor looks down on her feet a little. “She kind of scares me,” she admits quietly.

Louis can’t help but feel sorry for her. She doesn’t deserve this, this lonely, secluded life Mother Gothel makes her live; Louis knows that if he was in her position, he would positively go mad.

“You know what?” he says suddenly, face lighting up. “I have a great idea. A truly prodigious one. We need your help, right? How about if you help us with this, we’ll help you escape.”

A spark of interest is awakened in Taylor’s eyes then, and Louis knows he’s succeeded. She twines a strand of hair between her fingertips, loosely biting her lip and then she nods.

“I’ll do my best.”

Louis turns to give Liam and Harry a proud smile. Liam looks relieved and Harry almost smiles back, too. He tries to hide it, but Louis can see the twitching of the corners of his mouth.

“Right,” Louis affirms when he turns back to the girl. “It’s said that Mother Gothel has a portal hidden here. Do you happen to know if that’s true and where it is?”

“Oh.” Taylor’s forehead wrinkles and her eyes widen a little. “Um. Yes, she does. But you shouldn’t use it now; the portal system is broken.”

Louis scratches his neck. “Yeah, we know. ‘S kind of how we got here.”

“But… Why would you need it, then?”

“Because my two companions are interested in potentially dying,” Louis mutters. “It’s not important. Do you think you could help us?”

Taylor smiles a little. “Actually, yeah. I know where it is. But—“

A call from outside interrupts her and proceeds to petrify all four creatures in the tower with fear. Louis stops breathing.

“Rapunzel, let down your hair!” a strained, female voice commands. Louis, Harry, Liam and Taylor stare at each other in sheer panic. Mother Gothel just left, she’s not supposed to be back already. What in the worlds are they going to do?

“Hide in my room,” Taylor hisses, rapidly waving her hand in the direction of an old, wooden door. “Now, go!”

Harry is the one who regains control over his body first, hurrying into the room Taylor is gesturing towards, gripping a hold of Liam and Louis in the process. He shuts the door tightly and quickly scans the room for a good hiding spot.

He doesn’t seem to find one, because he runs a hand through his hair and his eyes fill with distress.

“Why the fuck would you have a fucking dresser for your clothes instead of a wardrobe?” he spits. Louis kind of understands him; a wardrobe is always a good hiding place. Always. There’s too little room under the bed, and the bookshelf and guitar in the corner are just useless. Taylor does not have any other furniture to help them.

So it seems they actually have no good place to hide. If Louis didn’t know better, this would be the time he’d curse so loudly an old lady on Earth would jump out of her seat and shake her head.

He doesn’t, though, because there are already voices in the room outside, and he does not want to draw attention to them.

In the end, the three boys just kind of stand there awkwardly lined up against the wall by the door and praying to whatever Gods that might be listening that Mother Gothel would not have a reason to enter this room and that Taylor could get her out of the tower somehow again. Louis presses his fingertips against the cold bricks behind him and tries to calm his breathing down. His heart is pounding uncomfortably in his chest.

Voices are heard from outside; they seem calm and casual, so Louis figures they’ll be okay. As long as no one makes a sudden and relatively loud sound, they’ll be just fine. He vaguely remembers his mother telling him about witches and their defined senses.

And then, because faith seems to have a sadistic sense of ironic humor, just as Louis thinks that, he feels a sudden tickle in his nose.

He’s about to sneeze.

It happens so fast and he doesn’t have time to stop it, so he does. He sneezes. And it’s not like it’s one of those chainsaw sneezes (Louis actually have very petite and charming sneezes, thank you very much), but it’s audible. And that seems to be all it takes.

Harry and Liam snap their heads in his direction, looking at him in horror and Harry looks like he wants his powers just about now, and then there are voices coming closer and closer to the door and they’re not all that casual anymore and the three boys just stand there, too scared to even move.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, and when Louis turns to look at him, he’s gone.

That utter coward of a _traitor_.

Louis doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because then the door is thrown open with a bang and he yelps, flying a few feet up in the air, and then Louis and Liam are eye to eye to an old, wrinkled lady with a hunched back and an evil eye. She looks kind of fragile but at the same time absolutely terrifying, and Louis thinks ‘well, then. This is it. This is how I die.’

Then they’re thrown out of the room by sheer pressure of the air it seems, hopelessly falling onto the rough floorboards.

(Well. At least they didn’t fly out the window.)

Louis whimpers and rubs his elbows in an attempt to dampen the pain. As soon as he and Liam are on their feet again, another push comes from behind them that presses them up against the wall, petrifying them. Louis desperately tries to shake his arms and legs back to life, but he can’t, and now Gothel is approaching them.

Louis knew this was a bad idea. He should’ve just stuck to his original plan and not let Harry talk him into finding the portal, he should’ve stayed there in the forest and let Harry go himself if he wanted to so badly, because then he would’ve been guaranteed a continued life.

It’s all Harry’s fault, and now he’s gone, just plainly leaving Louis and Liam to deal with the consequences. He is truly horrible.

Mother Gothel is standing close to them. Louis can almost feel her bad breath on his face.

“Is this what you do when I’m gone, Rapunzel?” she smacks her lips disapprovingly. “Having pretty boys over? Are they helping you to escape, darling?”

She turns to the trembling girl in the corner. Taylor is crying, cheeks already wet and her eyes tightly shut together. She’s terrified, Louis can see, and it’s understandable with the threatening way mother Gothel is walking towards her.

“You know you can’t,” the old lady hisses. “You’re trapped here, love. You know what’ll happen if you leave.”

Taylor’s head is hung in defeat, just awaiting her punishment, and Louis understands that this must be quite common, this situation she’s in now. Louis understands Gothel must be incredibly cruel to the girl.

He can’t let that happen now.

“Wait!” he calls out, earning the witch’s attention again. She looks slightly irritated, and Louis swallows.

He keeps going, though. “She has nothing to do with this. We were the ones who got in here. We didn’t even use her hair. It’s all our fault.”

“Is that so?” Gothel’s look is wicked, and it sends a shiver down Louis’ spine. “Then what brought this lovely visit on, hmm?”

She’s one of those people who doesn’t use harsh language when angry. Those are the scariest ones. Louis swallows one more time, daring to give her an apologetic smile.

“Well, see,” he tries. “Word was on the street that you had a portal up here. And it’s deadly important that we get out of here because of various reasons, and so we were desperate, and now here we are…”

Louis trails off when he sees Mother Gothel’s unimpressed face. Panic starts rising in his throat, so he starts rambling in search for something that would make that bothering raise of the witch’s eyebrows to disappear.

“Look, we didn’t mean to pry. I mean. We weren’t going to do anything. Besides from, you know, borrowing your portal this one time, but no more. We just wanted to get out of here, it’s not Tay—uh, Rapunzel’s fault and we didn’t mean any harm so please, please let us go, please…”

Mother Gothel looks at them for another couple of seconds, seemingly considering her options. Everything is quiet for a moment, air thick with hesitant hope and anxiety, and then a smirk pulls her lips into thin lines, curling up to show off her few, yellow teeth.

“Alright. I believe you. I might even let you use my portal.”

All of the air in Louis lungs leave in one single exhale, and he could almost laugh with relief. Maybe they would actually get out, maybe things would be alright—

“If, you do this thing for me.”

… And there it is again. God, why does everyone want a favour from him? Louis’ tummy knots uncomfortably.

“A-and what would that be?”

Gothel tilts her head menacingly. “I have a sister. Her name is Hulda.”

Oh, for _god’s_ sake—

“Mother Hulda?” Louis clarifies. “The one under the well?”

Gothel gives him an appreciative hum. “That’s right. See, things are not the best they could be for me financially right now. I really need money, but she’d surely murder me if I showed up there myself. Bottom line, if you go there, work for her like good boys and then collect the money and give them to me, you’ll be allowed to use my portal. You have until dawn.”

Liam makes a hesitant sound, but Louis is not having it.

“Deal,” he states firmly. “Let us go and we’ll get right to it.”

And Mother Gothel does; the invisible grip on Louis’ body loosens, and he falls to the floor, moving his fingers and toes rapidly to make sure they still work properly. Then he straightens and turns to Liam with a righteous nod. Liam doesn’t look all too convinced.

It doesn’t faze Louis that much. They’re doing this.

Mother Gothel hands them a spindle, instructing them to prick their finger on the needle and throw it into the well before jumping in themselves, and both boys nod excessively. As Taylor lets down her hair for Liam to climb down, Louis whispers;

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” to her before throwing himself out the window, lowering himself to the lawn beneath him.

It takes some time for Liam to climb down, so Louis is once again stood to watch him. The guy’s got really nice back muscles, though. Harry wasn’t wrong about that detail.

Then a longing sigh is heard right next to him and Louis flies ten feet into the air.

“I’ll probably never get tired of watching that back work,” Harry states wistfully, looking up at Liam with dreamy eyes.

“What the actual—“ Louis stares at Harry. “What are you doing? Where did you come from? Where did you _go?”_

At the last sentence, the fairy starts hitting Harry’s arm with clenched fists. The green eyed boy hisses and immediately recoils.

“Ow!” he exclaims, rubbing his arm carefully up and down. “What was that for?”

“For vanishing and leaving us to deal with the consequences like a selfish tool!”

“I didn’t leave you!” Harry glares at the fairy, crossing his arms. “I was there the whole time.”

“Oh well, then it’s okay, isn’t it? Since you were there to witness us almost die on the sidelines it’s all good!”

“I wasn’t just watching you!” Harry pulls at his hair in frustration. Good, Louis thinks petulantly. Let him be frustrated. “Do you think I’m a complete asshole?”

Louis blinks. “ _Yes_.”

Both boys are so caught up in their argument they don’t even realize Liam is now right next to them. That is, until Liam decides to open his mouth to scold them.

“I can’t believe you two,” he declares disapprovingly, shaking his head and making the other boys jump a little. “Harry’s been back for what, two minutes—where the hell were you, by the way?—and you’re already at each other’s throats. How do you even have the strength to keep that up? It’s exhausting enough for me to just listen to it. God.”

Louis bites his lip and looks down on his bare feet bashfully. He feels kind of childish now, and he hates that Liam makes him feel that way—but mostly, he just hates Harry.

“Fine,” he tells the ground. “But don’t tell me you’re not a little bit interested in why he abandoned us.”

“No, I am,” Liam says, and aims his hard glance at Harry. “Speaking of which. Why did you?”

“I didn’t abandon you!” Harry exclaims. “I’m not a fucking coward.”

“ _Really_ now?” Louis can’t help but quip.

“I swear to the Gods when I get my power back I will…”

“ _Seriously_?” Liam interrupts them again, looking severely disbelieving and disapproving.

Both boys quieten then, resolutely hanging their heads. Louis purses his lips to bite back the annoyance Harry’s sheer presence causes him.

“There’s a mirror,” Harry finally mutters, breaking the silence. “In Mother Gothel’s room. That’s her portal. She’s smart who disguised it, but. Yeah. It’s there.”

 _Oh_. Louis blinks.

 _So that’s what_ …

Liam nods. “Okay. Thank you, Harry.”

His voice is earnest and Harry just nods back shortly, drawing invisible patterns in the grass with his foot, and Louis feels a little stupid. Which.

 _“Right!”_ he almost yells then, forcing them into another topic of conversation and causing the spirit and the shape shifter to flinch in surprise. “Are all of us going to Mother Hulda, or what?”

Liam bites his lip. “That might be a bit unwise,” he figures. “Grimm is not exactly an uneventful place. I think someone should stay up here to keep watch.”

Huh. That doesn’t sound all too fun, Louis thinks. Just sitting by a well for hours not doing anything at all. He’s not doing it. He will wither away out of pure boredom. It does sound reasonable, though, to have someone to watch out in case something happens.

“Alright,” he agrees. “My vote is on Harry. He doesn’t actually need sleep and he’s hideous enough to scare away any creature that may come this way.”

“Ha bloody ha,” Harry deadpans. “Wouldn’t think so. I think Louis should stay.” He straightens his neck authoritatively. “He knows the forest the best and besides, no one would dare to hurt him. They’d take a look and just get an immediate urge to baby him.”

Louis glares furiously. “What is that supposed to—“

“I’m staying,” Liam cuts in simply. The curly and the caramel haired boy snap their heads in his direction, staring blankly at him.

It doesn’t seem to bother Liam the slightest, as he explains with impressive nonchalance. “I’m good at guarding. I’m a wolf. I can defend myself if something happens. It only makes sense.”

Louis sputters. Liam might have a point, but it’s just not good enough. There would have to be more than someone ‘having a point’ to convince him about falling down a well with Harry Styles.

“No,” he declares. “No. Not happening. I’m not going down there with him. It’s just not something I’ll do. No. Forget it.”

Harry is as eager to protest, but Liam just raises his hands to hush them.

“Do you honestly think you two will be able to survive a potential Underworld or Above together if you can barely survive each other?” he asks rationally. “No. You need to learn how to tolerate each other. I won’t be babysitting you. You will go down there together. You will cooperate. And you will not complain.”

Louis glares his very best glare at his new so called ‘friend’ to emphasize how much he actually dislikes him this very moment. Not quite as much as he dislikes Harry, though, so Louis gives the spirit a very dirty glance before replying unwillingly.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But if we die because he screws up, I will be your personal poltergeist. Just so you know.”

“What would you even do?” Harry mumbles bitterly. “Pester his flowers? Sprinkle pixie dust on his pillows?”

“Shut _up_ , Curly.”

They catch a glimpse of Liam’s extremely demeaning facial expression then, and they both turn silent. Louis thinks he liked Liam better when he was insecure and shy. Being persuasive is Louis’ job. Also the shape shifter is treating him like a child.

“Let’s just go,” he says reluctantly.

Liam nods, giving him an encouraging smile. Harry groans, but starts walking as well.

“How far away is it?” he asks.

“Not that far. If we hurry, it’ll take half an hour tops.”

“Okay,” Harry nods to himself. “Also another thing, this well doesn’t count as a portal, right?”

Louis snorts. “No, it belongs to the hidden segment of Grimm’s Village.”

“Just wondering,” the green eyes boy shrugs. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be so fortunate to expect a nice, cookie baking granny and then be greeted by Odin’s deadly forces or something. That would be a bit uncomfortable.”

Louis almost laughs at that, but he manages to hold it back before anything slips out. Instead he nods and adds;

“Remember that we need to figure out a way to help Taylor, as well. We can’t leave her with that hag.”

Liam bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair. “Right. I’ll try and figure something out while waiting for you, yeah?”

“I don’t really understand why we have to,” Harry speaks, earning two pairs of alarmed eyes on him. “What? The easiest way would be to just be selfish and hope that she’ll get out herself.”

Louis’ jaw is clenched. “I could say so many things right now,” he enlightens Harry. “But I won’t.”

“Thank you, darling. I do appreciate it,” Harry says coldly.

(Liam still rolls his eyes, but he figures it’s at least an improvement.)

 

~

 

Louis isn’t sure this is a great idea. He’s actually not sure at all.

It’s not that he’s afraid. God, no. He’s the bravest, really. Truly lionhearted, he is. A hero.

The well doesn’t really look that inviting, is all. It’s deep and narrow and the water is intimidatingly dark and cold.

Harry doesn’t look very bothered, though, so obviously Louis can’t show any of his hesitancy.

“Okay,” Louis breathes, climbing up to sit on the edge of the well. His feet can’t reach the water. He swallows.

Harry just simply sits down next to him. “You ready, pixie?”

“What?” Louis tries to appear as tall and mighty as possible, and gives Harry a passive aggressive look. “Aren’t you?”

Harry smirks coldly. “Bye, Liam,” he just says, before he grabs a hold of Louis’ arm. He pulls, and then he’s off, dragging Louis with him. Louis’ eyes widen comically and he opens his mouth to scream just as his body hits the icing cold water below, and it swallows both boys whole; there’s no turning back now.

For a few seconds, things are just cold and unpleasant and Louis can’t breathe. The water is surprisingly cruel, mercilessly throwing his tiny body back and forth and up and down, and Louis finds himself absolutely helpless and he doesn’t even know where Harry is and he hates it.

And then it’s over, and then Louis and Harry find themselves sitting in a beautiful meadow, not a lot unlike the one they landed on in Grimm’s Village.

Louis is currently on all fours, breathing heavily and just checking that all his limbs are still present and well-functioning. They are, so he raises and looks around them.

“This is such a pretty place,” he says, almost wonderstruck. “I love this so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry groans behind him. “Let’s get this shit going, alright?”

“Rudeness will get you absolutely nowhere.”

“You’re not exactly a delight yourself.”

Louis just huffs, turning his back and making a big deal out of strutting over the meadow to the other side, waiting for Harry to hurry after him. He does, and Louis smiles a pleased smile to himself.

“So, what do we do?” Harry asks when he’s caught up to the fairy.

Louis scratches his neck. “Well. I don’t really know. The only thing I actually know about Mother Hulda is that she helps us with the winter. She has these bed sheets, yeah? And she shakes them to decide what type of snow it’s going to be. Sometimes the feathers are light and few, sometimes they’re swirling all around and in high numbers.”

Harry looks like this makes no sense to him, and Louis doesn’t expect it to. Night and day are probably complicated to him.

The two are starting to walk out from the meadow and a bit into a sparse leaf forest, and they only walk a few feet before they hear something just a little bit away. There’s a whining, a wailing, a lament; and Louis, as the genuine person he is, immediately quickens his pace to help the creature at unease.

“… You have got to be kidding me,” Harry states when they reach the whines. His eyes are wide and disbelieving and greener than the trees as he stares at the… The oven before them.

“Is this an oven? In the middle of a forest? How does that even work?”

“Shut up,” Louis just commands, and he gets a disapproving snort in reply. “It’s the bread, see? They are almost burned.”

The fairy is right (of course he is); inside the oven lie a couple of loaves, and that’s where the unhappy moaning is coming from.

“ _Take us out, take us out, or alas! We shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through long ago_.”

“Oh, right, obviously,” Harry mutters grumpily as Louis takes a hold of a bread shovel and draws the bread out of the oven. “It’s the bread loaves. How stupid of me. It all makes sense now.”

Soon after, they keep walking aimlessly, not at all sure they were going the right way, but still hoping for the best possible outcome, and that’s when they hear the second cry for help.

Harry gives out a long, agitated groan, but Louis just hurries again, to help whatever needs help. He truly doesn’t understand why Harry feels the need to be so insufferably negative all the time; this is not bad at all. They could be forced to do worse things than helping creatures in need. It’s like dragging a defiant child along.

(Harry certainly does look like a child at this moment; he even pouts. He looks like a little doll. If Louis didn’t actually want to spit on the ground the spirit walked on, he would find it quite adorable.)

The next thing that seems in need of a favor is an apple tree. It’s the only one of its kind, Louis notes, and he feels a little sad for it. Especially with the earsplitting noises it’s making.

“ _Shake me, shake me, I pray_ ,” it begs. “ _My apples, one and all, are ripe_.”

Louis instantly obeys and Harry face palms.

“This place, I swear to fucking Zeus,” the curly haired boy drones as Louis flies up to shake the branches of the tree with his little hands.

“God, Harry, you’re whinier than the bread loaves.” Louis rolls his eyes. The apples does fall down, if only a tad too slow and a tad too few at a time. He frowns a little as he realizes it’s harder than he thought; they’d be here forever if Louis was the only one doing something.

“I’ve heard some nice insults in my time, but that was a first,” Harry informs him.

“Shut your mouth and help me shaking the tree instead,” he orders Harry. Harry, at first, looks at the fairy as if he’s insane, but then he sighs for a long time, and then he grabs a hold of a branch heavy with blood red apples, and pulls roughly.

The apples attack him; tumbling down in piles around him and if he’d been human they probably would’ve bruised both his head and arms and shoulders.

As it is, it doesn’t do much except putting him in an even fouler mood. Cursing loudly, he looks down on the stupid fruits around him, frowning so hard he should get permanent wrinkles on his forehead.

Louis can’t help but giggle at him, and Harry looks up at him challengingly.

“You think this is funny? Yeah?”

The fairy just clasps a hand over his mouth to stiffen his giggles. This is Harry Styles, the feared Spirit of Pain, and he’s currently standing with rowdy curls hanging over his big eyes, and lips tightly pursed in a pout, surrounded by apples in a sunny meadow. It’s hilarious.

Harry just smirks.

“You shouldn’t be so cocky, pixie. I could get all these apples down while you’d still struggle with your third.”

Louis’ giggles stop then, and he lifts an eyebrow at the boy on the ground. “Is that a challenge?”

Harry answers by pulling another branch, causing another bunch of apples to fall down from the tired twigs. Louis takes it as a yes.

The coming at least forty-five minutes are spent by violently and determinedly shaking fruit off of a tree under ferocious warrior cries. It is a lot more intense than it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this took a bit longer than expected, but yayy!! it's here :D and i'm really excited about it bc now the plot is really starting, you know, things are getting interesting.
> 
> as always, kudos, comments anD MSGS ON MY TUMBLR @a-bit-extraordilarry MAKES ME THE HAPPIEST PERSON so yeah. if you feel like it, please do that bc i will love you. 
> 
> next chapter will be up hopefully within the next week. i have a shit ton to do in school at the moment so if there's no chapter next week, that is probably why. just a heads-up :)


	7. chapter 6; the village of grimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

”I won, you pompous liar.”

”You did not!”

“I’m taller, I’m faster, and I’m stronger. Clearly _I_ won.”

”Well, then things must just be even more embarrassing to you, since I had more apples than you did when we were done despite your ‘advantages’.”

Maybe Harry and Louis just aren’t meant to not fight; it’s been only a little more than an hour since they arrived here in Mother Hulda’s quarters, and they couldn’t even make it half of that time. Louis thinks they’re probably a lost cause. He’s not going to take the step to change that, though. He’s not letting Harry win.

He doesn’t let Harry come up with a retort to his sassy statement, because then Louis sees the smoke of a chimney and the brick wall kind of red beyond the birch trees they’re walking among.

“Hey!” he exclaims, pointing to where the cabin is comfortably standing. “That must be Mother Hulda’s place, must it not?”

“’ _Must it not_?’” Harry mutters mockingly. Louis ignores him for now, picking up speed towards the little house they’ve been searching for.

When they are close enough, they see an old woman open a window to peek out on her visitors. Which should be completely fine and understandable, and nothing that would cause any exaggerated reactions.

Except the woman has got these _enormous_ teeth, like giant marble blocks. Louis lets out a surprised borderline horrified yelp, backing straight into Harry’s warm body out of reflex and then flying two steps forward again, startled by the physical contact.

The lady doesn’t seem to be bothered by Louis’ obvious discomfort though, as she just smiles and calls out;

“Do not be afraid, dear! Stay with me. Things will go well for you both if you do the work of my house properly, for I am Mother Hulda.”

Louis inhales and exhales deeply to calm himself down. Harry snickers beside him and the fairy promptly elbows him in the side.

“Don’t be a tool,” he mutters. “Let’s just get this over with. Put on your best smile.”

Louis doesn’t look at his companion to see if he’s complied, because honestly, if Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life with nasty pitch attached to his skin, that would be his own business and nothing Louis would be a part of.

Louis’ feet lift only a couple of inches above the ground, and he lightly flies over to the nice little door and knocks carefully. When Mother Hulda opens, Harry is right behind him on the doorstep again.

“Hello,” Louis greets her with a smile. “I’m Louis and this is Harry. Lovely to meet you.”

Mother Hulda welcomes them inside with open arms and huge toothed grin, and Louis has to say she really is one charming old lady, despite her mildly horrifying appearance. There is a plate of cookies and a pitcher of lemonade on her round little kitchen table, as if she knew someone would soon be visiting.

“Tell me about yourselves, dears. How did you get here?” she asks them, and Louis smiles nervously.

“My name is Louis, and this is Harry, and… Well. We’re not exactly sure of how this happened, it’s all a bit hard to comprehend still,” Louis shrugs, “I was just casually spinning by the well and keeping a small conversation with Harry, when I pricked my finger on the needle! And the pain was so sudden I fell backwards still clenching the spindle tightly, and Harry was sitting right next to me so I tried to hold onto him, but then we both fell instead…” he lies smoothly.

Mother Hulda nods appreciatively, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “And what’s your relation to each other? You’re not from the Forest,” she turns to Harry. “Are you from Grimm then?”

Louis holds back an eye roll and opens his mouth to tell her that, no, Harry is definitely not from anywhere near Grimm, but Harry gets there before him, and his answer takes Louis aback so much that he forgot what he’s going to say.

“No, I’m not,” Harry looks down on his hands, and Louis swears he almost looks bashful. “I don’t belong to Grimm at all, really. I’m from the Greek. I’m—I’m just here for him, really.”

Harry nods in Louis direction with a small smile playing on his lips. Louis’ eyes immediately flies wide open, and he’s staring at the spirit. _What the—_?

Mother Hulda’s full attention is now on the curly haired boy as well, and she leans almost unnoticeably forward in interest. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Harry looks to Louis, and his eyes are incredibly calm. Louis has absolutely no idea what he’s trying to do. “I don’t know, we met at the University of the Three and it just—it felt right, you know? Right away.”

Louis has to physically press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to suppress a quip about how Harry has a very funny definition of something ‘feeling right’.

But then Harry decides that apparently what he’s doing isn’t already enough—so he reaches out over the table to intertwine his long finger with Louis’ small ones. Louis feels like he’s going to pass out. He doesn’t dare saying anything though, because the only thing that could possibly make this worse would be revealing that it’s a sham. Mother Hulda would probably not react very well to that.

So Louis sits quietly on his chair and lets Harry hold his hand. Which is, you know. Completely fine. Louis’ hands were kind of cold anyway. It’s not like it’s a big deal. It’s just hand holding between two enemies. Staged hand holding. Louis holds hands with a lot of people. He quite enjoys hand holding, actually. Which is the only reason this is not uncomfortable for him. Even if it’s with someone he hates. Because hand holding isn’t a big deal.

He’s unnecessarily overthinking this. Louis needs to stop.

“He’s,” Harry bites his lip a little. “He’s the love of my life, I reckon.”

Louis whips his head away from the two other creatures to hide the momentarily lost control over his facial expressions, because he’s pretty sure his eyes has never been this big before. He squeezes Harry’s hand as hard as he can in an attempt to convey the feeling of ‘ _what the hell are you doing_?’ without using words or obscene gestures. Harry doesn’t dedicate Louis even the slightest glance, but merely smiles softly at Mother Hulda.

Hulda reciprocates the smile, admiring eyes moving between the two creatures before her. Louis presses a grin upon his features as well. The hands down weirdest thing about this is that Hulda genuinely believes this. She genuinely thinks they’re lovers.

“That’s lovely,” she compliments them. “Truly. I wish you the best.”

Harry thanks her, and after that, the three of them are raising from the table to get on with the chores. Harry slowly lets go of Louis’ hand, and Louis shoulders immediately sink down from his ears. His hand is a little cold now, used to the warm pressure Harry’s own hand had provided, and Louis stops a shudder from running through his body.

It’s fine, though. It’s all good. It’s—yeah. Louis isn’t affected in the slightest.

They are led into a nice little room with baby blue wallpapers and creaky wooden floors. Most of the space is taken up by the huge bed standing in the middle of it all, covers thoroughly straightened and probably ironed, made into perfection. Louis is immediately overwhelmed by an urge to land himself a place under those covers, burying his face in one of the many puffy pillows and disappear under fabrics of clean, cloud colored cotton.

That would be unprofessional, though, he knows, so he reluctantly refrains.

Mother Hulda nicely explains to them exactly what to do, and then leaves them to their work, closing the door behind her. Louis is by the bed in no time, gripping the covers to start shaking it at good as he can.

“So for how long will we have to do this?” Harry asks lowly, still standing right where he’d been since they entered the room, merely watching Louis getting to work. Louis sighs exasperatedly.

“Once, Harry,” he answers, just as if Hulda didn’t tell them a minute ago. “We have to do this _once_ , and dust of the furniture _once_ , and mop the floor _once_. And we have to do it well.”

“This better be worth it, or I’m going to cause Gothel some severe discomfort.”

“Still have no powers, curly.”

“Oh, I won’t need powers.”

“Stop pouting and help me.”

Harry eyes the fairy up and down for a while, deciding whether to keep putting up a fight or to just give in and get it all over with.

He seems to settle for the latter, grabbing a hold of the sheets and shaking violently alongside Louis. Wise choice, Louis thinks.

It certainly gets the feathers going, and they’re swirling around their working bodies in no time, like small, innocent glimpses of winter. Louis thinks it looks absolutely beautiful. He always has known how to appreciate the smaller things in life. Sometimes he’s almost jealous of the pixies, he figures. Almost, just because of their size. They’re always out, resting on falling autumn leaves and hanging off of swirling snow. Louis would like to be able to do that, as well. It must be endlessly relaxing and soothing.

“See?” he says, when the feathers finally have calmed down and the bed is neatly made. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Harry scoffs and glares at the bed as if it’s personally offending him. “I really don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like it, curly,” Louis smiles sweetly. “Now, you grab the mop over there and I’ll dust off the furniture behind you. Let’s do this.”

Harry stops and gives him an incredulous look. “Are you seriously _enjoying_ this?”

“Now, now,” Louis pats his elbow. “That’s not the tone to use with the _love of your life_ , is it?”

It’s impossible to miss the bitterness in his words, and Harry certainly doesn’t. “Come _on_. Mother Hulda is a good creature and good creatures are obsessed with cheesy shit like that, just take a look at yourself. I gave her a reason to empathize with us.”

Louis really wants to, he really does, but he can’t argue with that. He wouldn’t swallowed a love story like that whole, as well. Dammit.

“Whatever. Pick up your mop, curly. We have a house to clean.”

 

~

 

They clean the entire house, and they do it good. It’s absolutely spotless by the time they’re done.

Mother Hulda gives them a content smile and an appreciative nod after inspecting every aspect of her now sparkling fresh home, and Harry and Louis exchange a triumphant smile when she leads them out to her porch to have them get their prize, their money. Louis is so happy they managed to make it he could cry. Harry looks extremely content as well, small smile playing in his dimples for the entire time.

But then, just as the two of them is standing to await their reward, everything turns.

Louis freezes with panic.

Because Mother Hulda slowly turns around to walk away.

That’s not a good sign. That’s not a good sign, Louis knows immediately. Good creatures want to stay and watch other creatures be happy because of them. It’s a thing. The only reason why Mother Hulda would turn around to not watch Harry and Louis get their reward would be—

Would be the fact that there is no reward.

Louis’ mind just goes blank, and he can’t come up with anything to do or say, except to helplessly shout out a frantic “ _Wait_!”

To his huge relief, Mother Hulda at least listens to that, and she does as Louis pleads. Her face, on the other hand, makes Louis’ hope crumble and sink all the way through his stomach and down to his toes. It’s stone cold and unfriendly; in that moment, she reminds Louis of her sister.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, painfully passive aggressive, and Louis swallows.

“W—what did we do?” he wonders. Harry is watching both of them, worried eyes flicking around the place. He obviously realizes something is terribly wrong, as well. None of the boys truly knows what to do now; they hadn’t actually considered a plan in case they’d fail.

Mother Hulda laughs bitterly. “Do you think I’m a fool?” Louis doesn’t answer, so she keeps going. “Don’t ever think I don’t hear every single word you utter in my house. You’re working for my sister.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathes.

Everything’s just crumbling to Louis. They’re not going to get the money. They’re not getting the money, he’s going to get pitch all over his precious, smooth skin that’ll never go away, and Mother Hulda looks like she’s moments away from biting both of their heads off with her gigantic teeth.

It’s just one of those moments; there are so many things he could do and so few that would actually help him, and his head is almost bursting with distress. Harry apparently doesn’t know what to do, either, because he just stands behind Louis, biting his lip and eyes rapidly looking around, as if hoping something will appear to save them.

So Louis does the only reasonable (but at the same time completely out of his mind) thing he can think of.

He buries his face in his small hands, and he starts crying.

He doesn’t hold back, either. He emphasizes his hopeless supposed vulnerability with almost excessively loud sobs, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes, his petite shoulders shaking. He can’t really define Mother Hulda’s reaction, but she sure does look surprised.

Time to put on the performance of his life.

“Please,” he tries. “Oh please, I am so sorry. I have failed miserably, I—I only wanted to help. And now we’re doomed! We are destined to a miserable life of dirt and shame, and that’s all on me. Harry,” the fairy turns to the taller boy, and his voice says “I never meant to drag you into this,” but his eyes say _play along if you want to live_.

Harry’s face quickly goes from mildly shocked, to confused, to understanding, and then he also looks dramatically sad. He shrugs depressingly.

“It is what it is, Louis. You couldn’t have known.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “No, I must fix this,” he looks to Mother Hulda. “Will you please give me a chance to explain?”

There must be something about his desperately pleading tone that does the trick, because Mother Hulda reluctantly gives in.

Louis dries his feigned tears away. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You see, we might not be here for the reason we told you we were, but I can assure you our motives are nothing but pure. We—we fell through a portal, right? And the portal system is broken, and we fell through and—we were kidnapped by Mother Gothel. She threatened to throw us through her portal if we didn’t fix your money for her.”

Mother Hulda still looks bitter. “You being forced doesn’t make your actions pure.”

“I _know_ ,” Louis says, quickly trying to come up with something to assure her of their innocence. “We weren’t ever going to actually give her the money; we’re trying to come up with a plan to free poor Rapunzel and give _her_ the money. So she can live her own life.”

The old lady’s face gets something sad in it at the mention of the girl. She looks down on her long skirt for a moment, and she sighs.

“I feel such pity for dear Rapunzel. She’s nothing but good.”

“We think so, too!” Louis agrees, maybe a tad too enthusiastic. “And that’s why we wanted the money. She doesn’t deserve the torture Gothel puts her through. We were never insincere about our benevolence.”

It’s quiet for a while. Mother Hulda seems to think this through, and Louis holds his breath and crosses both fingers and toes. Harry is completely still, as well. Louis doesn’t even think he’s breathing.

“I trust that _you_ have a clean conscience,” Mother Hulda allows at last with a look on Louis, but when her eyes moves over to the fidgeting spirit next to him, they go hostile again. “But your friend, I cannot. He is a wicked one, I can tell. He’s from the Underworld.”

 _Yeah_ , Louis thinks bluntly. _Yeah, he is_.

He could say that, as well, he thinks for a split second. He could escape with the money and leave Harry to deal with the pitch. It would be easy, and he wouldn’t have to leave Grimm, either. He could make up some sad excuse to Liam and then he could just wait for the portal system to be fixed.

He could, but Louis can’t bring himself to. There’s just something holding him back from doing it.

Probably because going through with that plan would be really mean, and Louis isn’t mean. He’s too nice for his own good, actually. Besides, even though he hates to admit it, he kind of owes Harry, because despite his complaints and snide remarks and condescending actions, he’s proven to be loyal. He’s had the opportunity to completely abandon Louis and Liam to save his own ass, but he hasn’t, and Louis will be damned if he proves to be unreliable before Harry does.

“Oh, Mother Hulda,” he instead says reproachfully. “Let’s not be creatures to judge a book by the cover.”

Mother Hulda raises an incredulous eyebrow. “So he’s not a wicked one?”

Louis shakes his head fiercely. “Don’t get me wrong, I doubted his motives and personality in the beginning— I guess we all do when they come from down there, don’t we? But I have along the way been forced to see that I was mistaken. Once I saw through his cold demeanor, I found genuine kindness in him. We can’t blame the boy for being _raised_ the way he was, that’s not something he can control. It doesn’t define him, either. Believe me, Harry’s assignment and origin might be wicked, but his soul is not.”

The words are disgustingly cheesy and pretentious and bitter on his tongue, but they at least seem to work.

(If he’d look behind him, maybe he’d see the way Harry’s emerald eyes widens twice its size and his jaw drops.)

Mother Hulda folds her hands, hesitantly looking between the two hopeful and pleading creatures a couple of times, before sighing.

“Fine. You will have the money, but you need to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Louis swears.

“You need to kill my sister.”

 _Oh_.

Well. Louis bites his lip. Probably anything but that.

“Is there,” he says thinly, “is there no other way to deal with this?”

Mother Hulda looks at him with no sign of emotion playing on her face. “No.”

“But. You know, call me a coward, but I haven’t exactly killed anyone before. I don’t consider murder very ethically… right.”

“I don’t like it either, but it’s not negotiable. Gothel will never leave Rapunzel alone,” Mother Hulda explains with the same kind of informative indifference. “She will start the search for her the second the girl slips through her fingers. She won’t ever give her a rest. The only way to secure a safe and promising future for Rapunzel is to permanently get rid of the thing holding her back. My sister has had too much power for too long.”

Louis frowns hesitantly and is just on his way to protest again when Harry decides to open his mouth.

“We’ll do it,” he affirms.

“Very well,” Mother Hulda offers him a small smile. “Then reach out your hands, dears. Collect as much as you can.”

She doesn’t leave, but stays to watch them get their reward, and Louis breathes out. So she’s not bluffing.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Thank you so much.”

And so, the gold is falling.

 

~

 

It’s close to midnight when they get back to the Village of Grimm, and the velvet black sky is freckled with tiny, pointed stars. The moon casts a silvery light onto trees and bushes, painting it in its own soothing colors. It reminds Louis of a black bird’s sweeping, gracious wings. Louis has always liked to think of night as gentle watercolors and day as fierce acrylics, each one intense in their own way.

Liam is a wolf, and he’s lying comfortably in the same place he’d been standing when they left. He’s not sleeping, though, because when Louis and Harry land on the grass beside the well, he instantly jumps up on his feet, pointing his ears and sniffing to catch the scent of something potentially threatening.

“Liam?” Louis hisses. “It’s us. We have the reward.”

There’s a muffled bark, and then Liam’s human head is sticking up, squinting his eyes to see them. “Finally,” he replies. “I was seriously starting to wonder.”

“Aw, no need to doubt us,” Louis coos. “We’d never let you down. Or. I can’t speak for Curly, but I wouldn’t.”

Harry just scoffs. Liam sighs lightly.

“I guess it’s a minor improvement,” he figures. “I’d hoped for more, but okay.”

“What?” Harry mutters. “You were hoping we’d be besties braiding each other’s hair and exchanging boy advice from one little trip together?”

“What do we do now?” Liam just asks, choosing to pointedly ignore Harry’s scorn.

“Uh.” Louis looks down on the ground. “We have to. We have to kill Mother Gothel.”

Silence. Wide-eyed stares. And then;

“ _What_?”

Louis winces a little at the obviously aghast tone in Liam’s deep voice.

Liam is obviously not at all okay with this, and he makes it very apparent in the way he flings his arms out and let his pupils move so quickly between the two Louis fears he might turn cross-eyed. “Are you crazy?” he hisses. “Have you lost your goddamn minds? Do you want to _die_?”

“Don’t blame any of this on me,” Louis quickly defends himself. “Harry was the one who accepted the job.”

“ _Harry_!” Liam looks disapprovingly—and kind of frantically— at the spirit.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Give it a rest. Mother Hulda would’ve never let us go if we didn’t agree to it, it was her only condition. I just saved your sorry asses. And Taylor’s, too, for that matter.”

“You want us to kill a dark _witch_ ,” Liam says slowly.

“It’s not like it’s _that_ hard,” Harry tries. “Look, I don’t know how much you know about witches, or any kind of dark creatures, but in the presence of possible wealth they just go wild. They can’t focus on anything else. You’ll practically just have to hold the money bag by the window and she’ll make a run for it. I’ll push her out and make sure she falls onto the thorns. Done.”

“I am very uncomfortable with you talking so indifferently about this,” Louis enlightens him. Harry just laughs humorlessly.

“It’s not like I’m a stranger to death.”

Louis is aware of that. Obviously. Anyone with a brain wouldn’t need Harry to say that out loud to at least guess it. Of course Harry’s not a stranger to death. But hearing him say it like that, like it’s the clearest and most common thing in the world, that really does something to Louis’ stomach and he has to look away from the green eyes above him.

If Louis didn’t know better, he would probably tell you that this is what pity feels like, because no one should ever have to say such a thing with such painful triviality.

Louis does know better, though. And he knows he doesn’t feel any sympathy for Harry, none at all. It’s most certainly just the topic of conversation that irks him.

Harry is right, though. Which, no, Louis doesn’t like admitting that very much, thank you. But it’s not like Liam the Puppy or Louis has any sort of expertise to provide with when it comes to this.

So he sighs, and he tries to momentarily push away the hostility that always kind of clouds his thoughts whenever he interacts with Harry as he looks up at the spirit.

“So is that plan accurate?” he asks. “The thing about holding the bag by the window.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrows for a split of a second, shoot up to wrinkle his forehead, and then he shrugs, quite evidently taken aback by Louis’ accommodation. A dimple is teasing his cheek.

“Yeah, I reckon so. Obviously it’d need some polishing, but yeah.”

“Alright.” Louis sits down in the grass, folding his hands in his lap and looking expectantly at the curly haired boy. “Do tell.”

“Well.” Harry tilts his head in thought. “You and Liam would both have to get up there, so Gothel doesn’t suspect anything. You’re bringing the money with you, too, of course, she’d have to see it to be convinced. Maybe shake it a little so she can hear that there’s actual money inside. You make sure she doesn’t actually get a hold of it though; have her going to the window. Tell her you have another, even better surprise for her down there. She’ll probably buy it. She’ll look down on the ground or possibly the sky depending on what you tell her, eager to find her surprise. I’ll be the only one getting my hands dirty.”

Louis nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Harry confirms. The shadow of a smile still hasn’t properly left his face and Louis bites down a snap to make it go away. He just nods his head once more, and turns around to start walking.

Harry shortly follows, and Liam looks at their backs as he starts walking behind them.

“That’s more like it,” he mutters.

 

~

 

“So,” Harry says quietly. “That speech back there. With Mother Hulda. It was, um. It was impressive.”

They’ve been walking for probably about half an hour in a steady pace. Louis figures they should be seeing Rapunzel’s tower at any minute, and none of the three have been speaking a lot during the walk. Louis in fact thinks that’s the first time Harry’s opened his mouth since they started walking.

A slight itch has been irritating his skin ever since he had to let his guard down and show Harry some trust, because Harry had looked insufferably satisfied and neither has he in any way tried to reciprocate the considerably generous humbleness. Maybe it’s being agitated and not to mention, incredibly _tired_ , or maybe it’s just that it’s unthinkable that Harry would actually genuinely compliment someone, that has Louis’ spine stiffening, but Louis directly mistakes the uttering as taunting. He doesn’t look at Harry as he answers coldly.

“Don’t let anything get to your head, curly. I said what needed to be said.”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, and Louis is grateful he’s not turning it into a big deal. He can’t believe he’s thinking it, but he’s filled his quota of drama for today.

It’s nice to know he at least has a limit, he thinks absent-mindedly.

If Louis’d actually look, he might see the way the green eyed boy’s shoulders slump slightly after his rough answer. He might see the tiny, tiny upturn of Harry’s mouth falter, he might see the way he hangs his head.

“Right,” Harry murmurs at last. “Of course.”

And it’s an odd response, but Louis doesn’t dwell on it.

(Obviously, Liam sees what Louis doesn’t, and he makes sure to ‘accidently’ step on the fairy’s tiny foot to underline his disapproval and makes a mental note to be nicer to Harry in the future.)

Louis whines and gives Liam a dirty look, rubbing his sore foot against the grass. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Liam shrugs. “I’m a bit clumsy.”

Louis mutters something incomprehensible and keeps walking, slowly lifting from the ground to fly the last bits. His foot really hurts. Liam should watch his steps.

The tower is soon apparent in the gloomy, dark forest, and it looks extremely intimidating, Louis admits. Anticipating their arrival. The wind is gently pulling the hedge of thorns. He shivers.

“Okay.” Liam utters, turning to Harry and Louis with a serious expression. “So Louis and I will be going up now, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Yeah.”

“And you’ll be up there, right?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Harry assures.

He sounds sincere, and it’s a little too dark to be able to tell if Harry’s eyes are lying, so Louis lets it be.

Liam breathes in and out slowly. “Okay. Alright. Let’s do this.”

And then he calls out for Rapunzel to let down her hair, and that’s their queue.

Louis clenches the bag with money tightly. Harry fades into nothingness. They’re on a mission, and the adrenaline is pumping in Louis’ veins. It’s almost exciting. He’s never done anything like this before.

Liam inhales and exhales once, deeply and slowly, and then he grips the golden mane and starts climbing. Louis’ wings work eagerly, and the fairy can feel his pulse quicken its pace the closer they get to the opening of the mighty building. Harry is nowhere to be seen, but Louis hopes he’s just as ready as he is.

Rapunzel is sitting nervously in a corner and Mother Gothel is eagerly awaiting them, eyes glinting with anticipating greed. As soon as she sees the bag in Louis’ little hand, she gets almost a predatory look in them instead. Louis should probably be scared, because she appears about ready to rip Louis’ limbs to shreds to get a hold of the fortune.

 _She’s inferior right now_ , a voice says in his head, and Louis flinches in surprise. _She can’t concentrate on anything but the reward, so she’s an easy target for you. You have the upper hand here._

Well. That must be Harry, then, Louis figures. Showing off another spirit-y attribute.

Louis breathes, concentrating on his pulse, and forces out a sly smirk. “We made it.”

“I see that,” Gothel drawls and Louis swears her eyes sparkle. “You’ve been good, you’ve been very good. The portal will be all yours.”

She starts staggering forward, hands practically gripping in the air after the bag, but Louis promptly holds it out of her reach, smacking his lips. His demeanor is cocky and confident, but his insides are alarmingly insecure of how he should do this. He bites his lower lip loosely, trying to come up with how to continue. Mother Gothel looks at him, irritated.

_Say you got something more from her sister. Tell her it’s bigger than she could ever dream of. Lie, Louis._

“Wait,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows teasingly. “This is not all there is.”

“What do you mean?” Gothel frowns.

“I guess you could say we got… Something more from dear Hulda,” he studies his nails nonchalantly the way he’d seen Harry do a couple of times.

(Not because he thinks Harry is impressive in any sort of way. No. Not ever. More because he’s supposed to act like a cocky, secretive brat and Harry is the best reference he could possibly get.)

“Something so precious you’ll never, ever have to worry about money again as long as you’re alive,” Louis continues.

That certainly does get Mother Gothel’s disapprovingly wrinkled eyebrows to loosen up.

“Where is it?” she asks, widening her eyes and looking around herself as if it would pop up out of thin air. Louis suppresses a smile.

 _You’ve got her. Lead her to the window._ Harry sounds amused.

“It’s outside. We had to leave it down there because we couldn’t possibly carry it up here on our own.” Louis looks to Liam who’s standing behind him, carefully watching the interaction before him. “Liam will show you. Right, Liam?”

“Right.” Liam pushes his shoulders back and nods once. “Over here, madam.”

Maybe ‘madam’ is pushing it a little bit, Louis thinks, but other than that Liam is doing fine. Gothel blindly follows Liam to the window.

“It’s right… There. You see it?”

Gothel sounds confused and slightly frustrated. “No. Where is it?”

“You might have to look really closely, it’s pushed up against the wall right down there.”

And, as the birds sing and the babies laugh and the elves dance, Mother Gothel bends over to properly see the tower wall all the way down on the ground. She’s even lifting one foot to see as much as possible, and Louis can only almost break down in tears with relief that she’s falling for it (no pun intended). He holds his breath now, waiting for Harry to appear and finish it off.

He does.

Mother Gothel lets out a horrified shout when she feels another body wrap itself around her, and then Harry’s dragging her all the way down to the ground. Louis can hear her scream for the entire fall, he can hear it abruptly end.

Neither he nor Liam looks down to see the results of what they’d done. Louis can only imagine, imagine Gothel’s aged, distorted body perched on the dark thorns down there. He feels a bit ill at the thought.

Harry is up in the tower again in no time, hair ruffled and lips pursed.

“The minute her heart stopped she turned to ashes,” he informs them with a frown.

Taylor emerges from the corner where she’d been watching it all with wide eyes. “I guess her age caught up with her.” There’s a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Louis can see her struggling to hold it back and it makes him happy knowing she’s happy.

“Hey,” he beams and skips up to her, giddily giving her the bag of money. “You’re having this.”

Taylor’s jaw drops in astonishment as she stares at the fairy and the fortune he’s holding out to her. “What?”

“Take it!” Louis shakes the bag impatiently. “Take it, take it, take it!”

“God, okay, I will,” Taylor gives in and she’s trying to sound annoyed, but it’s clear that she’s far too excited to genuinely succeed. With a huge smile stretched across her face she accepts the money, and it’s so heavy she almost drops it all at first. Louis giggles a little. He loves happy people. He loves them so much.

“Thank you,” the girl whispers. “Thank you so much.”

She drops the bag on the ground to throw herself at Louis in a crushing embrace. She picks the fairy up from the ground with ease, and though this bothers Louis a bit, he can’t really find it in him to care right now. This is what he likes the best, he thinks. Happy, grateful people and getting acknowledgements for his own awesomeness. It’s fantastic.

He’s quickly released from her grip as she runs off to Liam to fling her arms around his neck, causing the boy to stumble back a few steps in surprise. He hugs her back as well as soon as he regains balance, and Louis can see the joyful crinkle of his brown eyes over Taylor’s shoulder.

Things get really interesting, however, when Taylor decides to, completely without a doubt, go on to hug Harry, with just as much intensity and glee as she did with the boys before him.

Louis watches the spirit’s eyes grow twice its size in shock when another body collides into his, hands freezing at his sides for the first couple of seconds. It’s painfully evident that Harry Styles hasn’t received a lot of hugs in his lifetime, and that’s both understandable and terribly sad at the same time. Louis can’t imagine being so happy about something that he’d go as far as wrapping Harry up in a warm embrace, can barely imagining Harry enjoying hugs. It doesn’t quite go together with his character.

Except—after those first seconds of shock has passed, Harry lifts his arms to wrap them around Taylor as well, and though the taken aback dilation of his eyes are all but gone, Louis catches the smile making itself known in the deepening of his dimples. It’s a soft smile, one that makes him look weirdly… Shy. It’s a kind of smile Louis’ never seen on him before.

It hits Louis that Taylor just made Harry sincerely smile by merely hugging him. Louis, who usually prides himself on his ability to make other people happy, hasn’t even succeeded with forcing a slight crook upon those lips that hasn’t been ironic, bitter or condescending.

For a split second, the hatred washes off of Louis. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if he’ll stop picking fights with Harry, Harry will do the same. Maybe this feud they have going on is nothing but unnecessary and misconstrued. Maybe Louis can make Harry smile like that in the future. He’d quite like to, he thinks.

Oh my god, no. _No_. That is _not_ happening. Not now, not ever.

Louis mentally slaps himself in the face. What even _was_ that? Stupid, is what it was. Completely absurd.

Harry and Taylor part as well, and Taylor takes one last look around the room. Her eyes are glinting with something new.

“There’s one thing I want to do,” she tells them, before she scurries off into Mother Gothel’s room. She soon emerges again with a silvery scissor. “I’m cutting this nightmare off.”

She gestures at the length of her beautiful hair with a determined expression.

Louis, Liam and Harry all help Taylor to hold her hair in place as she starts cutting it, from one side to another. Her body seems to grow lighter with every snip of the scissor, like every strand of hair is a huge weight on her skinny shoulders and she’s finally letting it all go.

She probably is.

When Taylor’s hair barely is to her shoulders and meters of meters of long, golden locks are lying in swirls around the tower, she explains that she wants to make a rope out of the cut hair on the floor to get down to the ground.

“You’ve been so lovely, you really have, and I understand if you want to go immediately, but… If you’d help me, that’d be great.”

“Of course we’re helping you,” Liam insists earnestly, instantly sitting down on the floor. “How do you want it?”

Louis is on his way to join, when he realizes something, and it’s urgent.

He’s _tired_. He’s never been this tired in his life.

“God, I’m tired,” he exclaims. “I’m sorry, I’d—“ he interrupts himself with a yawn, “I’d love to help you, but I—“ yawn, “I really need to sleep. Just for a little while, yeah? Wake me whenever.”

“Sure, Louis,” Taylor smiles. “It’s alright.”

“Actually, uh, by the way?” Harry suddenly says, causing three pairs of eyes to focus their attention on him. “I… I’ve been thinking.”

“What?” Louis says, letting only a little irritation seep through. Is Harry seriously having second thoughts _now_? After all they’ve gone through just for him to get his way, _now_ is the time to start consider his other options?

The spirit bites his lip. He seems conflicted by something, deciding what to do. At last he looks at his companions, and he excuses himself with a;

“There’s something I have to do. I’ll be really, really quick, I promise. Just wait here, yeah? Wait. I’ll be back.”

And then he dissolves into thin air, without even awaiting a response.

Liam and Taylor just look confused. Louis understands them, he is too, but he’s mainly just annoyed.

“What if,” he mutters, “that creature could take others into consideration before himself for once.”

Yeah. Definitely not going to be friends. No way.

 

~

 

It doesn’t take long for Harry to find Jesy’s house; it’s just a matter of seconds, really.

He has to admit, he is kind of ashamed of what he’s about to do. It’s an act of weakness he’s never even felt the slightest need to do before. This is… It’s almost _nice_ , what he’s about to do.

Why is he doing it? He’s not sure. He’s really not sure at all. Actually, Harry has never felt more clueless about his own actions before in his life. It just, it didn’t feel _right_ , what he’d heard and seen since he arrived in Grimm. It felt wrong to just leave it.

Maybe this is what people call ‘empathy’.

Harry doesn’t knock. He doesn’t call out for Jesy, he doesn’t even turn back to his body until he’s in the room Jesy is currently in; the kitchen, cooking some dinner. For two, he observes. Probably a male. Probably her savior, then.

As soon as he’s back in his visible, solid form, he coughs quietly to get her attention.

Jesy yelps and turns around in one swift motion, her hand flying up to press against her heart. Her facial expression quickly goes from scared to confused, though, when she realizes Harry is the one standing in her kitchen, uninvited.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it almost comes out as a question. “It’s Harry, right?”

Harry just nods. He doesn’t really have time for small talk. “Look, I won’t be staying long, don’t worry. Everything’s fine, we’re all good. We got to the portal.”

Jesy looks impossibly relieved at first, and then confused again. “Then what—?“

“Have you ever heard of narcolepsy?” The curly haired boy decides to just go straight to business. He watches Jesy’s forehead wrinkle, as if she’s trying to figure out where he wants to come with this.

“No,” she replies.

“It’s a neurological disorder,” Harry explains. “It happens when the group of nerve cells in your brain that are supposed to regulate your sleep-wake cycle stop functioning. I think—I think that might be what you have.”

“Okay,” Jesy says slowly. “And what’s this supposed to mean?”

“Do you feel paralyzed sometimes?” Harry knows he’s probably not being the most sensitive right now, but he doesn’t really care. He just want this to be over and he also needs to get back to Louis and Liam as soon as possible. “Like, that parts of your body might go limp or weaker if you get overemotional or are just waking up or falling asleep?”

Jesy blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, sometimes.”

Harry exhales. That would be the cataplexy. He’s seen this before on Earth, has had to work with sufferers. It causes a lot of distress.

“Then it sounds like narcolepsy is what you have. I’m obviously not a professional, but you know. I’ve seen this a couple of times. If we do end up on Earth I could try and get some help? Like, some medicine or coping schedules or something. I could send it with Liam and he could help you when he gets back here—you shouldn’t have to be a prisoner in your own home because of a condition that is actually relatively treatable.”

The girl thinks this over. Harry can see the emotions flash over her face, one at a time; confusion, relief, fear, surprise. In the end, she seems to settle for consent.

“Yeah, okay. If you want to.”

Harry nods. He can’t quite bring himself to indulge eye contact with the girl, so he just stubbornly speaks to his shoes.

“Alright.” He scratches his neck. “Just. Just thought it might be comforting to know that you’re not alone. And that there are things to facilitate what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Jesy sounds sincere, and Harry doesn’t really know what to feel. Satisfaction, he guesses. But the situation is far too unfamiliar to him to feel anything but slight unease.

“’S all good,” he responds and dares shooting her a crooked smile. “I’m going to go now. Also, if you’d ever stumble across a girl called Taylor, I think you’d make her a huge favor in befriending her. I think you’d go together really well. Anyway, pleasure to meet you. Bye.”

Harry is just about to turn around and travel back to the tower, when Jesy utters one last question.

“Does this have anything to do with how upset the fairy was? Louis?”

Harry frowns. “No,” he snorts. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know,” Jesy shrugs. “You just seemed quite concerned when you looked at him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry declares. “Louis isn’t my friend and certainly no one I would do favors for.”

He makes sure to leave his body then, before that could develop into another conversation, and he hurries back to the two creatures waiting for him. Jesy has no reason to believe any of Harry’s actions are because of Louis. The only thing that would make sense would be if this was a thank you for the act at Hulda’s—but Louis obviously didn’t want to save anyone’s ass but his own back there, anyway.

Harry shakes his head.

Ridiculous indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back!!!! and i am officially on summer break so i can finally dedicate the time i need and want to writing. sorry for the long wait xx
> 
> so i'm going to greece this saturday, where i'll be staying for a week. which means that the next update will probably be somewhere around monday - wednesday the week after. but after that i will be free to write as much as i like :DDD
> 
> thank you for reading and, as always, please talk to me on my tumblr @a-bit-extraordilarry. i will repay in virtual hugs and kisses.


	8. chapter 7; wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Louis thinks they must be in Wonderland, because he kind of feels like he’s on drugs.

That, and they’re lying under a huge mushroom, which. He’s pretty sure none of the other worlds have mushrooms tall as houses.

Liam gasps after air, hair ruffled and eyes widened from the overwhelming trip. His head snaps around to get a grip of where he is.

“Where are we?” he asks almost frantically. “What is this?”

“Calm down,” Harry huffs, brushing a couple of chocolate curls off of his forehead and looks around as well, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Cloudy skies. Trippy colors. No sense of rationality whether it’s size, form or environmental development. This must be Wonderland.”

“You don’t say?” Louis raises from his spot as well, scratching his neck and leaning against the mushroom to not lose balance.

“I do,” Harry replies indifferently. “We should probably be careful.”

“What?” Liam looks slightly panicked. “What’s dangerous about this place?”

Harry and Louis can’t help but exchange a look. Harry straightens out his black t-shirt and decides to answer Liam since Louis makes it clear with a defiant raise of his eyebrows that he won’t. Louis isn’t really good at breaking possibly bad news gently. He’s more into lightening someone’s mood after receiving them. That’s his forte.

“Wonderland…” Harry starts, pouting his lips and biting the lower one thoughtfully, not entirely sure how to put the rest.

(Louis doesn’t stare at the way the lower lip plumps out redder than Snow White’s apple after that. He most certainly does not. Who even cares about stuff like that? Not Louis. That’s for sure.)

(So what if he did anyway. It doesn’t make Harry any more enjoyable as a person.)

“Wonderland is not… Nothing makes sense here. It’s built on solely the imagination of the right half of a brain. You know how our brain halves function and control different areas, yeah? The right half is what makes you emotional, creative and intuitive, the left one makes you organized and analytical and logical. To be able to think rationally and work properly as a living creature, one side of the brain could be dominate, but you need a mix of both. They need to somewhat balance each other.”

Liam swallows. “Yeah?”

Harry smiles gently, but his eyes are serious. “Wonderland does not have any left brain thinking. Nothing is logical. Nothing is organized. We’re living inside one big dream right now, and it tends to fuck with your brain, to not be in an environment controlled by both parts of it. Wonderland confuses you. It makes you lose grip of what’s real and what’s not. You can feel it in the air already, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” Liam almost whimpers. He looks sort of pale.

“Long story short, we need to be careful down here, because the place kind of dims the part of your brain where you can think rationally. And do you know when you need to be able to think rationally? When you need to stay out of trouble. Which is what we need to do, because nothing about Wonderland will work in our favor. It’ll work in the creatures who live here’s favor.”

Harry looks pretty unbothered by this fact. Liam doesn’t.

Louis guesses this is where he steps in.

“It’ll be fine, Liam,” he says softly, slowly walking up to the shape shifter, putting a comforting arm around his waist. It has to be the waist, because Louis would probably actually have to fly a tiny bit above the ground to reach around Liam’s shoulders. That’s not something Louis would openly confess, though. “We’ll keep each other grounded, yes? Stop once in a while and solve some mathematical problems to keep our minds in shape. I could start if you’d like, look. There are six cotton candy trees over there. Say I cut them down, and I’m dividing them fairly between us. How many trees do we get each?”

Liam furrows his eyebrows, giving Louis a confused look. Louis just answers it with urging anticipation.

“What,” Liam says then. “You want me to answer?”

Louis rolls his eyes as if Liam should’ve gotten that ages ago. “ _Yes_.”

“Oh. Two?”

“Wrong,” Louis sighs and shakes his head with a wistful smile. “I get all six. I would never share that loveliness I worked so hard for with your ugly mugs.”

Liam still looks a bit doubtful, but a smile is twitching in the corners of his mouth, and Louis sees that as a victory. Harry snorts behind them. Louis doesn’t know if it’s to cover up laughter or because he thinks Louis is ridiculous, and Louis can’t really bother with caring. He knows he’s fantastic. That’s all he needs.

“Okay,” Liam inhales and exhales deeply, fluttering his eyes shut for a moment, adjusting to the bizarre situation. “Alright. Okay. Right. Let’s just. What do we do, then?”

“We find another portal.”

“Gee, Louis, we wouldn’t have guessed,” Harry rolls his eyes at the fairy’s naïve answer. “How were you planning on finding it, pixie?”

Louis shoots him a glare. “I don’t know. I haven’t been here before, you two are the ones who thought this was a good idea in the first place. Does anyone know what to avoid and what to look for?”

He gets two pair of blinking eyes at him. Right then. Great.

“We’re not supposed to ever be able to go here,” Harry says slowly. “Wonderland is the most secluded place of all the worlds, probably. They don’t ever leave, but more importantly, no one ever goes here, either.”

“So we’re absolutely clueless,” Louis confirms frowningly. “We know nothing.”

“Why did I agree to this?” Liam wonders, shaking his head hopelessly.

Louis doesn’t know.

“Well,” he figures when no one else seems to take the initiative. “I think we should go that way.” He points towards the squiggly road that continues on by the cotton candy trees. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Right thing for you or for your stomach?” Harry sneers, and the fairy promptly turns to him with a glare that should terrify nations, but Harry just looks amused.

“Are you trying to suggest that I’m _fat_?” he demands furiously.

Here’s the thing; Louis has got this small pouch of a tummy, right, he’s well aware, and it’s one of the more unfavorable physical traits of his. He’s quite self-conscious about it, really, it’d been quite a relief to be able to wear shirts for a change when he got to UoT. He’d never openly admit that he is insecure about it, though, and he certainly won’t ever take any sort of crap for it. Especially not from Harry.

The spirit’s eyes widen animatedly and the smirk immediately falls off of his face. “What? _No_ , bloody hell, man.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Harry looks extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden, running a hand through his curls. “I was referring to the— the mathematical task you did. You, you know, the punchline was you taking all of the—so I thought, I thought maybe you just really liked—you know what, just forget it. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He seems incredibly distressed by this, that Louis thought he’d been insulting his weight, interrupting his own sentences and tripping over words, and if Louis wouldn’t be so busy building his Harry proof walls even higher, he’d probably wonder why. He doesn’t now though, just narrows his eyes a little further. His hands are promptly resting on his hips.

“Well, then. I think an apology might be in order if that’s the case, don’t you?”

That certainly gets the Harry Louis knows and despises back. “ _What_?”

The fairy’s eyes are stern. “You heard me.”

“Why should _I_ have to apologize for _you_ misunderstanding something?”

“You offended me, and when that happens one usually apologizes.”

“You’re overreacting, pixie. I’m not apologizing to you.”

“Oh, don’t even try. I think you just don’t apologize, period.”

“Right, because you made it awfully clear that you were sorry about Red Riding Hood, didn’t you?”

Louis is just about to bite back with a venomous retort when Liam decides it’s probably a good idea to not let this argument develop any further.

“Right!” he exclaims, walking to stand in-between the two creatures. “Let’s go that way then, shall we?”

He points to the way Louis had suggested only moments earlier, sending scolding borderline pleading looks to both of them.

And Louis really likes a good argument, right, no one’s missed that, but he also likes Liam. He thinks Liam is kind of awesome, actually. Also he still feels really bad for messing up so badly with Sophia (honestly, Louis does have an apology to utter as well, he knows he does, but it would just be awkward to bring it up now, wouldn’t it?), so he lets it go and gives his new friend a smile.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

And they do.

Louis concentrates on the grainy, bright yellow pebbles under his feet as they walk in silence, quietly ripping off small pieces of cotton candy when they reach the trees. He can feel Harry’s amused eyes on his neck, and he’s extremely tempted to turn around and pick a fight, but then he remembers Liam, and he decides against it.

The air is weirdly thick in this place in a way Louis hasn’t felt before. It’s not actually different from the oxygen he’s used to inhale, per se; but he can feel it all the way down in his lungs, he can feel his head lightening remarkably with every breath. Louis can’t decide if it’s a good kind of light or a bad one. It’s like the literal definition of ‘clouding one’s judgment’ surrounding all his senses. He tries to remain calm. He thinks of math.

“So, um,” Liam starts lightly. “What’s the plan?”

“Hm?” Louis is pulled out of his (well, attempted to be) concentrated thoughts.

Liam scratches his neck anxiously. “Like, where do we go? Are we just following this road until it ends?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” Louis looks at Liam and then at Harry to maybe get some kind of help. He doesn’t get any. Shocking. “The castle, maybe? There ought to be someone around who can help us.”

Liam is just about to answer with a hum of agreement when Louis hears voices and freezes where he’s standing.

“Do you hear that?” he asks, widening his blue eyes as much as he can. “There’s someone just around the corner!”

And like the times before, Louis doesn’t give his two companions a second thought before taking off in rapid speed to settle behind another tree made of cotton candy. It’s pastel green, and he thinks at the back of his mind, at least they kind of got the color right on this one. It could almost pass for an actual tree. Almost.

When he looks out from his spot, he realizes two things; one, the ‘voices’ are more like ‘frantic laughter mixed with loud conversation’, and two, Wonderland’s fields are a beautiful turquoise now. Louis loves turquoise.

The laughter is coming from a table, set in the middle of the widely stretched lawns, and Louis furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he looks closer. Harry and Liam seem to have caught up to him now, as they are both right behind him once again, observing with him.

(Louis smiles nearly unnoticeably. Leading a group in this kind of way, knowing that they follow and trust him enough to not question his random impulses, kind of makes his heart wrap itself up in a warm blanket. He realizes he really likes the feeling of being important like this. Even if one of the people making him feel that way is kind of despicable.)

“Is that… Is that a hare? Next to that man with the hat?” he asks. He genuinely thinks it is. A huge hare currently pouring himself a cup of tea. Maybe the place has got to Louis already.

Both Harry and Liam are blinking, eyebrows pretty much grazing their hairlines, so Louis can’t be the only one.

“Yeah,” Liam swallows. “I think so.”

Well. Louis guesses nothing really is impossible here. At least the hare seems to be a very happy one, and positivity is always nice. His laugh is screeching and obnoxiously loud and occasionally gurgling from the liquid he is eagerly emptying inside his mouth. The man beside him is wearing a funny hat and even though the table is quite big, they’re still sitting at the short side of it, tightly pressed against each other’s sides. A dormouse is sleeping in one of the cups between them on the table.

“Should we ask them for help?” Louis asks again, hoping for a definite answer because quite frankly, he hasn’t got a clue. Would they actually get help? Is the madness contagious? Are these creatures even safe? They could be killers for all Louis knows. Maybe they weave webs of nightmares underneath that quirky table. Maybe they’re laughing about how terrified they have made creatures with regular sleeping patterns. Louis wouldn’t know.

“Yeah.” Liam doesn’t answer this time, Harry does. “It’s at least worth a shot, yeah?”

“You don’t think they seem a bit… Unreliable with solid information?” Louis figures, watching the nearly hysterical pair smash down their tea cups on the table again. The cups break.

“This is probably the best we get,” Harry states with resignation. “Sorry.”

What’s the worst thing about this situation? Harry’s probably right. Louis purses his lips unwillingly and sighs.

“Alright, then. Off we go?”

“You take the lead, little one.”

“Don’t call me that ever again.”

Judging by Harry’s smug smirk, Louis just got himself another nickname. Awesome.

He occupies himself with coming up with as many alternatives to Harry’s name as possible. The only catch is that Harry likes to comment on a minor flaws in Louis’ appearance like his height, and Harry’s got, well, just about none of those. He’s frustratingly good looking and it makes Louis hate him even more, because it’s unfair.

(Maybe he could figure something out about his nose. It’s a bit bigger than average, right? Louis has a nicer nose than Harry. That’s totally nickname material.)

(Maybe he could refer to the way Harry looks like a frog with his eyes widened. Possibilities.)

When they reach the table, Louis kind of expects the hatter and the hare to see them and initiate a conversation themselves, but they don’t. They actually don’t even spare the trio a quick glance. Which means that Louis needs to take the matter into his own hands.

This should probably be uncomfortable. The situation could go any direction imaginable. It should be awkward, probably, and Louis should probably feel insecure. Because once again, he needs to participate in something where he’d have to cooperate with people bigger than him, taller than him, people who’ll most definitely look down on him. People who tend to disregard his personality just because he looks fragile.

Louis should be feeling small. He should be, but then again, this is Louis. And when has Louis’ physical size ever been equivalent to his personality?

Never, the blue eyed soul thinks proudly and pushes his shoulders back. He clears his throat.

“Excuse me, gentlemen?” he speaks loudly, voice clear and melodic like wind chimes. “Excuse me, lovelies.”

The two creatures stop mid conversation, curiously turning their heads to look at their guests.

Louis smiles and nods once in a greeting. “Hi. Could we have a quick chat?”

The hatter and the hare just blink in time with each other, and Louis decides to take it as an invitation.

“Come on, lads,” he murmurs to Harry and Liam. “Let’s sit down.”

None of them protests, so Louis just walks the remaining steps that sets himself and the chair at the other end of the table apart. He’s dragging the chair out to comfortably sit down on the soft cushion, when the hatter and the hare seem to snap out of their tongue-tie and proceed to loudly protest against the fairy’s decision.

“There’s no room! There’s no room here!”

Louis raises an eyebrow as Liam and Harry sit down as well. “There’s plenty of room.”

“It is very rude to just sit down without an invitation,” the hare enlightens them. “You need an invitation. This isn’t just some come-and-go tea party, right Nick?”

The hatter—Nick, apparently— agrees whole heartedly.

“Yes, yes, very rude indeed,” the dormouse mutters in its sleep.

Louis shrugs and opens his mouth, but Harry beats him to answering, and the smile on his lips is ingratiating.

“Well, then,” Harry says. “May we have tea with you?”

“Do any of you take sugar?” the hatter asks, not even answering the proposal. The three boys decides to take it as an invitation, though, because no one complains about it after that.

“I do, thank you,” Louis tells them amiably. “Harry doesn’t really like anything sweet, though, isn’t that right?”

“Funny,” Harry deadpans.

The hare takes a cup and fills it with sugar all the way up until there’s a nice little mountain towering over the rim. Louis accepts it, although he leaves it be. He’s not all that pumped about getting cavities later. He doesn’t have the heart to tell the hare this amount of sugar wasn’t what he had in mind, and besides, they’re not here to drink tea anyway.

“So, what are three foreigners like you doing out here attending tea parties?” the hare asks, downing a scolding cup of tea in one go.

“It’s kind of a funny story,” Louis laughs nervously. “Could you believe it, right, the portals are broken. And we just fell through! And now we’re here, I guess, and we really need to get back to where we come from.”

“Oh my, you better get out of here,” Nick all of a sudden looks serious, and Louis must admit he’s quite impressed; he didn’t think he had it in him. “The Red Queen doesn’t like visitors.”

“Who’s the Red Queen?” Liam asks. Louis searches for signs of distress, but the shape shifter is seemingly calm. His freak out in the beginning must have faded by now, then. He’s back to the responsible, sensible one.

Nick nods absent-mindedly. “Hey, why is a raven like a writing desk?”

It’s like talking to a little child. Louis fidgets impatiently.

“Look, mate, you’re a delight but we just really need to know who the Red Queen is, yes? And possibly how to get out of here. You don’t happen to know where a portal is?”

“Wow, now,” Nick raises his palms to stop the fairy. “You can’t answer my question with a hundred new ones. I can’t keep up.” Another teacup is emptied. “I think you should help me with mine first.”

“What, with your riddle?”

The hatter looks at him expectantly. “Yes.” Then his eyes light up. “Let’s make it a game!”

Sure, Louis thinks. He shrugs. He can do games.

“You get the answer to my riddle right and I’ll tell you all I know.”

“Deal.” Louis leans over the table, clasping his hands tightly in front of him and narrowing his eyes determinedly.

Liam gazes between the two of them doubtfully, and then to Harry to see if at least someone finds this as weird as he does. Harry mostly looks amused, but he does roll his eyes a bit when he catches Liam’s eyes to tell him that yes, Harry does find this quite ridiculous, too. That’s kind of a relief.

Louis doesn’t notice their non-verbal conversation. He’s too preoccupied pondering and wondering, turning the riddle inside out and upside down looking for a suitable answer. He’s sternly glaring at Nick’s smug and delighted face as the hatter keeps laughing along with the hare, filling up endless cups of tea. The teapot seems unable to empty.

After repeating raven and writing desk in his head at least thirty times in different ways, the fairy gives out a drawn out groan and smacks one hand down on the table.

“Can you at least give me a clue?”

Nick looks almost personally offended. He puts a hand on his heart. “No! That would be cheating. We don’t cheat here.”

Louis’ fingers itches with a want of slapping the man across the face. He’s not a violent person, he’s not, but Nick is _really_ getting on his nerves.

“God, I don’t _know_ ,” he hisses. “Why _is_ a raven like a writing desk?”

Nick sighs and stirs down some tea in his honey filled cup as he answers happily. “I have no idea.”

Louis sputters and Harry barks out a joyous laugh beside him. “I like you, Nick.”

Nick beams at the spirit. “I like me too! And you’re alright, as well, I suppose. Nice hair.”

Listen, Louis _really_ doesn’t know what it is about people genuinely liking Harry. The only sane person they’ve met so far must be Mother Hulda.

They are all weak, weak souls, Louis decides. He feels sorry for them.

Harry just flicks a strand of mahogany hair from his face (Louis rolls his eyes so hard they almost disappear up into his skull) and smiles fawningly.

“Look, Nick, we would love to stay longer, but we must get going. Certainly you understand.”

“Of course,” Nick nods and raises his hands to wave them off. “’Twas nice drinking tea with you!”

“ _However_ ,” Harry continues, smooth and slow like velvet, not moving out of his spot. “Before we go, since I consider us friends, I think you ought to tell us about some portals that you know of.”

“Friends?” Nick’s eyes widen and he exchanges a look with the hare. They both look back at Harry shiny with delight over the spirit’s choice of word.

“Best of friends,” Harry promises.

“There are portals in the labyrinth!” the hare says, almost interrupting Harry in his eagerness to please. “The labyrinth behind the Red Queen’s castle, yes, but it’s very hard to find anything in there. That place is a maze! Hah. A maze. Get it?”

He laughs hysterically along with Nick. Harry’s smile is patient and Louis does not understand.

“So what’s the way to Red Queen’s castle, then?”

“Oh, you mustn’t go there, friend!” Nick says, grin immediately dropping off his face. “She will have you beheaded. She doesn’t like visitors very much, the queen. Have I already said that once?”

“I think you have,” the hare figures.

“You have,” the dormouse sleep talks.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Harry promises, tilting his head and softening his eyes. He looks infinitely friendly.

Louis has got to hand it to him. He’s _good_.

Nick pours himself another cup while looking hesitantly between his three guests. He touches his hat up a bit. The cup fills up quickly and tea is spilling over the edges. It doesn’t stain.

“It’s that way,” he says at last, pointing to a crossroad not too many steps away. “You go left by the yellow tulips and then left again by the candy canes. Just keep going, you will see the castle soon enough! It’s pretty big.”

“Huge,” the hare offers.

“Enormous,” the dormouse helps in-between soft snores.

Harry shows off all of his white teeth, positively blinding Nick as he stands up.

“Thank you so much. You’re a darling.”

Nick and the hare wave enthusiastically as Louis, Liam and Harry starts walking towards the huge yellow tulips. Louis purses his lips and fidgets a little. He really doesn’t like this overly large theme this place seems to go with. He’d quite like for a few things to be unusually small as well. It would make him feel a tiny bit better about himself.

That’s not the number one thing on his mind right now, though. What he wants to know is why Harry, the spirit of _pain_ , just _charmed_ his way into getting information.

“Okay. So what was that?” Louis hisses, eyes demandingly locking with Harry’s.

“What was what?” Harry sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at his feet. He can’t quite hide the smile nipping at the corners of his mouth, though.

“Why did the Nick guy like you? Aren’t you supposed to have the opposite effect on people?”

“I am a spirit of emotion,” Harry says simply, “which makes me very good with people, no matter what my assignment is.”

“I don’t get it,” Louis shakes his head.

“I don’t expect you to, pixie.”

“I’m not a pixie.”

“You’re like, two feet tall.”

“Literally shut up.”

“You don’t want me to figuratively shut up, then?”

Louis can’t even bother with a reply, he just pointedly narrows his eyes and hopes that delivers the message of ‘ _I hate you_ ’ enough.

He thinks it probably does, because Harry grins and for the spirit that’s probably a reasonable reaction. Dislike must be a sort of warmth for him.

“Right,” Liam says, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly. “So the labyrinth is behind the Red Queen’s castle.”

“Yes,” Harry confirms.

A concerned crease appears between Liam’s eyebrows, and he narrows his eyes in thought.

“What’s wrong, Li?” Louis wonders softly.

“Oh, nothing,” Liam shrugs and purses his lips. “It’s just, castles usually have guards, don’t they? By every entrance.”

Yeah. They do. Crap.

 

~

 

The castle, quite unsurprisingly, has guards. What’s more surprising is the excessive amount of them.

That, and the fact that they are literal playing cards. Like, the guards are _literally_ a scattered deck of cards in hearts and diamonds with faces and limbs. They’re everywhere, surrounding the tall building and shielding every possible way in to the huge, fancy castle, protecting doors and windows on every single floor. This is going to be hard.

You know it’s bad when your main concern is the amount, rather than their appearance.

“Well, shit,” Harry states. It’s a bit too indifferent for Louis’ liking. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Louis hisses. “Liam, you’re smart, right? You’re smart. I think you’re smart. Tell us what to do.”

“How about _you_ tell us what to do?” Harry interjects with a pointed look on the fairy. “Oh, Louis the Almighty. Lighten our path to success.”

“Oh, sod off,” Louis snaps. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Well, the funny thing with this, Louis, is that I’ll give my opinion on things regardless of who does and doesn’t ask for it.”

“You’re only doing it to make fun of me!”

“No, I’m eagerly awaiting the moment you will finally put your money where your mouth is.”

Louis gives the spirit a well-deserved glare. “Oh, don’t worry, curly. I will.”

That’s when Liam clears his throat vigorously, brown eyes severely judging them in that way only Liam could ever do.

Louis looks away and blushes. This whole truce thing with Harry would never work, and it frustrates him to no end that _Harry_ , out of all people, winds him up to the point where he can’t even take two seconds to evaluate whether the argument’s silly or not. He’s usually at least able to recognize when he’s making a fool of himself and not during fights.

Harry’s just taking advantage of Louis’ temper. He knows which buttons to push, the fairy reminds himself. Don’t let him win.

“Maybe,” Liam suggests, “if we try and sneak around this hedge and to the back, we can figure something out? Maybe it’s not as heavily guarded there.”

“Maybe,” Louis repeats, nodding. “It’s worth a look, yeah?”

Harry and Liam both have to occasionally duck when they walk around the hedge, as it tends to change height whenever it feels like it. It makes them look a bit stupid and a bit tired, and Louis smirks in amusement. The next time Harry decides to poke fun at Louis’ height, he’ll remember this. _Remember the hedge in Wonderland_ , he’ll say, _the moving one_. The one that made you and Liam look like Jack in the Box while I could just casually mind my own business.

Louis giggles into his palm as he looks at the two of them behind him, carefully keeping their eyes on the hedge to be prepared for the next move. The whole thing is strangely hilarious for some reason.

None of them realizes that no one’s watching the way in front of them anymore.

“ _Intruders_! _Intruders_!”

The yells are loud and screeching and very, very clear, and all three boys jump about five feet up in the air, very taken aback and extremely panicked.

“ _Shit_ ,” Harry exclaims again, but this time it’s a lot more passionate.

Louis’ head snaps around in all possible directions, and he realizes there’s nowhere to run. Guards are coming at them, forcefully raising their sharp spears while endlessly chanting “ _intruders, intruders, intruders_ ” at the three clueless creatures in the middle of it all. No one knows what to do. All Louis can come up with is tumble the castle over on the cards or blow really aggressive wind in their faces to keep them away, but he doesn’t know how he’d do those things, and at the same time he’s extremely frustrated because he knows he’s forgetting something, he knows there’s an option that he can’t figure out.

Neither can Liam or Harry, apparently, because the very next second they’re completely surrounded by cards and Louis is sure there must be more than one deck of cards used here. They’re definitely more than twenty closing in on them now, spears poking inwards. Louis folds his wings down and turns around to stop the pointy tips from scarring them.

At the end of the day, he’d rather his face get messed up than his wings.

“Well,” he mutters, looking into the stern eyes of the nine of hearts in front of him. “This is unfortunate.”

 

~

 

The inside of the castle is surprisingly neat and bright, which is a sudden, but not unwelcome, change from the dimmed and messy environment outside. The ceiling is high and beautifully painted like in a church, but instead of the wistful angels you’d see in those, there are delicately drawn playing cards up there, laughing and swirling and dancing as if it was the most normal thing, and Louis takes the time to admire the fine handwork. He’s always wished he could draw. There’s just something special about people with the ability of putting emotion into pictures and colors and constellations of shapes. Louis likes the way they can make a simple sunset look hopeful, or a meadow look lonely. If he wasn’t a nature fairy, he’d quite like to be a creature of the arts.

This far, the palace doesn’t seem all that bad. It actually gives Louis a feeling of security, this brightness and open spaces.

It’s obviously not doing the same for Harry and Liam.

The two boys’ beautiful eyes are narrowed in suspicion, looking warily around the hall, eyeing the smooth marble statues lined up along the red carpet under their feet, studying the oil paintings of a big-headed woman—presumably the queen— on the walls like they’re out to get them. Louis thinks they should definitely relax a little. The queen can’t be as bad as she’s been played out to be. Not when she’s got this remarkable sense of décor.

She even has the delicate taste to put rose bouquets in mighty vases along the aisle. Louis can feel the clean, blossoming scent of them even from where he’s being pushed forward a few meters away.

A giant door that begins on the floor and ends by the ceiling opens obediently before them as they approach, and they enter the next big hall.

There’s a throne at the other end, a massive and ornate one, with magnificent golden patterns gracefully looping and swirling their way down the frame of the backrest and down to the armrests, where thin fingers are knocking down the hard metal, expectantly.

The Queen of Hearts has a very fragile body, arms like the top twigs of a birch and a torso like a down pointing arrow. Her ankles are peaking out from the many, many layers of fabrics and skirts, and they look like they’d snap if they’d ever have to support the weight of her body. And her dress, of course. The dress probably weighed more than her entire body.

The only thing that doesn’t add up, is her enormous head. It’s twice the size of her body, and it’s making Louis’ stomach churn with discomfort. Maybe he was wrong before. Maybe her impeccable sense of interior design is just an unfortunate coincidence.

Her heart shaped lips are distorted into an ugly frown as the group approaches her.

“Who are these strangers, then?” she asks with a bitter look at them.

“Your majesty,” the Eight of Diamonds next to Harry begins. “They were found trespassing outside the castle.”

The wrinkle between the Queen’s eyes deepens further. “Trespassing, hm? I _hate_ trespassers.”

”Uh.” Louis starts, immediately alarmed by her unchanged hostility, but he’s quickly cut off by the card on his left.

“So do we, your majesty, so do we!”

“This is a misunderstanding,” Louis declares with a panicked look at the Queen. “We didn’t know, we—“

“Hold up!” the Red Queen silences him with a raised finger. She looks up and narrows her eyes, as if to listen to something very faint. “Do you hear that?”

It is literally drop dead quiet. If an ant came sailing in on a feather, you’d hear it coming before it even entered the building. Louis has never been in a place this tremendously silent in his entire life. No, he does in fact not ‘hear that’.

“No… your majesty,” he utters, trying his very best to sound as if he doesn’t want to strangle someone. He hates these stupid people with their stupid questions. Especially when there’s a risk he’ll die within the nearest future.

“Hm.” The Queen purses her lips thoughtfully. “I could’ve sworn those were the souls of the beheaded men before you telling you I couldn’t possibly care less about your motives.”

Louis sputters as the guards take a new, firm grip around his biceps to keep him still. They’re obviously waiting for their Queen’s doom, and by the sound of this, it won’t be in favor of the three.

The Queen of Hearts lets her eyes sweep over Louis, and then Harry, and then to stop by Liam. The boy is nervously biting his nails, and when their eyes meet, he looks pleadingly at her.

She gets something soft in her eyes for a few seconds, and she shoots him a small smile. “I like you. You can stay. Eight of Diamonds, make sure to get out the second throne and send after the cleaners to polish it until it looks like new!”

_What_?

Liam’s eyes shoot wide open, and he exchanges frightened glares with both Harry and Louis, who doesn’t understand a lot more than he does.

But what is she going to do with—

“And for you two,” she points a thin, frail finger to the remaining two boys. “Off with your heads!”

Harry and Louis doesn’t even get a chance to protest before they’re roughly and viciously dragged out of the room, Louis desperately trying to reach his hands out towards Liam, who’s promptly held put, brown eyes confused, helpless, and most of all, scared.

The huge gates closes behind them, separating the shape shifter from Harry and Louis, and the two of them are hopelessly pushed down to a set of stairs, all the way down to the dungeons.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun duuuun  
> i'm a bit meh about this chapter but hopefully it turned out alright??? 
> 
> ALSO oh my god I just want to say that you literally make my day when you read and comment and give kudos and stuff on this i am sO happy about it?? like some of you even wished me a nice trip to greece and shit yall are so NICE i don't even know xxxxxxx
> 
> thank you v v much and as always, if u talk to me i will love you forever so hit me up @ a-bit-extraordilarry.tumblr.com :D


	9. chapter 8 part a; wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Louis is thrown into the chamber headfirst, and he scrapes his small elbows on the rough concrete.

Harry is right behind him, cussing and yelling as the guards leave through the heavy door without as much as another word, he’s shaking the bars as if they’d falter under his frantic grip. It’s—quite disappointingly—changing absolutely nothing, and Louis rolls his eyes when Harry still doesn’t stop.

“Look, mate,” he says. “If that plan had worked, we’d be sneaking down the hall looking for Liam and an exit right now. If you want out you’ve got to come up with something else.”

Harry gives him a slightly clueless and very frustrated glare. There’s a vein on his neck that doesn’t seem to have any problem of making itself known, and Louis gulps because if he didn’t know better he’d find that ridiculously attractive.

He doesn’t, though. Obviously.

(Or maybe he does. Possibly. But like, in a completely objective way.)

“What other ways would there be? Why is it so hard, why is it not _budging_?” Harry questions, roughly running a hand through his hair. Louis raises his hands innocently.

“I don’t know, but it’s clearly not doing the trick. Sit down for a moment. Let’s think about this, yes?”

The curly haired soul looks extremely reluctant to this suggestion, but he realizes that there really isn’t anything else to do, and he slides down against the wall with an exasperated sigh.

“What the fuck do we do now?” he mutters, sliding his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees.

Louis doesn’t know. He honestly has no idea. It bugs him to no end, because just like before, he feels like he’s missing something really obvious but he can’t put his finger on what that is.

“Hey, Louis?” Harry mumbles from his corner. “What is two plus three?”

“I…“ Louis frowns. He’s quiet for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes and straining himself to search for an answer that he knows must be somewhere in his clouded mind. He doesn’t succeed, though. A cut of panic slices through his chest when he realizes he doesn’t even remember what the numbers look like. It’s all a bundle of weird shapes in his head. “I… I don’t know.”

The spirit groans and buries his face in his hands. “This is fucking great. Really.”

Seems like Harry wasn’t lying back by the giant mushroom.

This isn’t what Louis had imagined then, though. He’d imagined his mind going completely chaotic, a screaming, pounding mess of colors and emotions and shapes and nothing left to stabilize them. He’d feared going crazy. He’d feared an explosion, not this… Fizzle. This fog. This creeping, calmly swirling smoke of not insanity, but confusion. There is nothing to stabilize the rational content he’d usually have no trouble remembering, so in a way he guesses he’d been right, but there’s nothing loud or chaotic about it. It’s a blur, is all it is. A calm, smeary blur which doesn’t mess up his head. It hides away certain parts.

It’s positively more annoying than Louis had imagined it to be. In this state that Louis and Harry are in, it’s so obvious that they’re missing things, it’s so evident that something is restricted and shielded, but Louis can’t reach in and find it. He can’t reach in and find what’s usually making him recognize shapes as letters or numbers, he can’t find the voice telling him what it _is_ that’s making the bars stay solid and unmoving.

They might not even be physically trapped in here. There might be another choice to go for, a laughably easy way out, but they wouldn’t know because it’s something where you’d have to think a little to figure out.

They’re trapped by their own ignorance.

“Right.” Louis bites his thin lower lip, gazing over at the head of soft curls. He feels like he should do something, he needs to keep his brain occupied. He’s scared that maybe, if he’s sitting around doing nothing, things will get worse. He needs to talk about something, and it looks like he’s only got one option. “We should probably talk about something.”

Harry looks up from his hands to give the fairy an incredulous look. “We should?”

“I think we should.” Louis bites his thumbnail. “Maybe that’ll keep our brains in shape a little, at least.”

“No offense, but if wanted to improve my intellect you wouldn’t be the first person I’d talk to.”

Normally, Louis would go _off_ at a comment like that. He’d shoot an ice cold glare, he’d make himself look taller, he’d bite back with something equally awful to stop the gnawing the comment caused in his chest. But now he can’t really… Bother. He doesn’t know how to stop feeling it—how do you stop yourself from feeling an emotion? Why do you hide away something so significant?

So he just looks down on his hands, and he speaks quietly.

“That’s really mean.”

Harry snorts, but he does look up at Louis, not able to not be at least a little taken aback by the fairy’s sudden softness. His tone is a lot calmer when he forms his reply.

“I suppose it is.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. He absentmindedly plays with his fingers, listening to his own breaths and he makes sure he doesn’t look at Harry one bit. He better sit there and feel bad for being so rude, especially when Louis wasn’t even picking a fight.

Not that Harry would ever feel bad for something like that. It is, after all, his job. He must’ve had a lot of time to get accustomed.

Louis has managed to bite off the majority of his nails on one of his hands by the time the other soul decides to look up and sigh resignedly.

“Alright,” Harry offers, giving Louis an expectant look. “What should we talk about, then?”

Louis frowns confusedly, snapping his head up to lock their eyes in a stare. He still doesn’t utter a word, surprised by the fact that Harry chose to give in, just keeps looking at the spirit while trying to find a suitable answer in his brain.

Apparently he’s taking too long, because soon Harry sighs in frustration again and turns away.

“Or we don’t have to. Whatever.”

“No,” Louis rushes. “No, let’s talk. I’m bored to death. We should. Yeah. Speak.”

Louis catches the amused glint in Harry’s green eyes as the spirit props himself up against the wall a little, sliding one leg down to rest on the cold floor beneath him. “Alright.”

“So, uhm.” Louis quickly scans his mind after a good topic of conversation. “Uh. So how does it work?”

Harry blinks, raising an eyebrow. “How does what work?”

“You know,” Louis gestures towards Harry’s figure. “The whole… Spirit thing.”

Harry snorts. “’The whole spirit thing’?”

Louis tries to seem cool as he explains further. Truth is, he’s been wondering about this for quite a while, how spirits’ bodies and minds and powers work, curiosity growing and growing every minute he’s been in Harry’s presence. It’s completely objective, though, obviously. He likes knowing things, that’s the only reason. Because he definitely has let that whole fascination with Harry’s being go. He dropped that like a bad habit the second Harry spoke his first word to him. Yeah.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he begins, “but isn’t the thing with spirits that they don’t actually have a body of their own? Like, how does that even work, because you’re not a hologram the last time I checked? Are you possessing some poor human right now or something?”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Harry snorts. “I’m not some trashy _eidolon_. Spirits with purposes don’t do possession, especially not with creatures as petty as humans.”

Right. Louis can’t help but roll his eyes at the conceit of the other boy—he really does have some kind of need to sound like a superior prick at all times, he thinks bitterly. And Louis who’d almost hoped he could have a normal conversation with him without wanting to tear those dumb curls off of his head for once. He’s not exactly surprised to be wrong, but. It’s always a nice thing to hope.

(He also decides to overlook it, because truth is, he doesn’t think very highly of humans himself. He’s always seen them as a little bit ignorant and tiny bit pliable. But that’s not the point.)

“Then how do you have a physical appearance?”

“I think you’re confusing me with demons, pixie,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Spirits of emotion and nature adjust their form to their situation, as you probably know. This is my body, this is my bones and my eyes and my voice. This is me. This is who I am and what I look like, and this is how I prefer to be. If I have work, though, it would obviously not be very effective because I need to be able to move quickly and efficiently. So if I have work to do on Earth, I usually don’t have a physical appearance. I’m not human in any way except my thoughts, I am my emotion. I’m a gust of wind, or the feeling of goose bumps, or a tear in someone’s eye, and all of that is me, too.”

Harry quietens then, and he almost seems embarrassed that he showed such eagerness for explaining this to Louis. That he responded so positively to Louis’ initiative.

Louis doesn’t find it embarrassing, though. He’s kind of surprised at the eloquence of the words, how soft the deep voice had been. It shows a depth to Harry Styles that’s Louis has previously just passed off as non-existent—the possibility of Harry caring about something.

Which must be why Louis can’t find it in him to point it out or make Harry more uncomfortable than he already seems to be. Not when he already reacted with shame, like being caring or passionate is something Harry’s been taught he shouldn’t do.

“Must be convenient,” Louis says lightly. “I mean, I couldn’t pass off as anything but what I am. I can’t cover up my wings. Or my ears. Or explain my height…”

“Lack of height,” Harry cuts in casually, and all Louis’ benevolence disappears again. Right. Back to normal, then.

“Explain my _height_ ,” he repeats icily with a pointed look on the taller man before continuing. “I’m just saying. It must be nice, no?”

“Most of the time,” Harry looks down on his feet. He looks strangely melancholic then, sliding his hands up and locking them around his upper arms. He looks almost small, hugging his body like that. It confuses Louis a little, and he finds himself uncomfortable with seeing Harry like that, so he looks down on his lap instead.

“But…?” Louis pushes, keeping the conversation going.

Harry smiles, but the dull edges and the strained crook of it is evident. “But nothing. It’s awesome, actually.”

“I can imagine,” Louis mutters. “Especially seeing as you never have to be held accountable for your actions. That must truly be awesome.”

Harry doesn’t answer for a long time.

“Yeah,” he says finally, but it sounds kind of fragile and not very convincing, and when Louis looks at him he doesn’t smile with his eyes. “Yeah, it’s fantastic.”

Louis gets the feeling that Harry doesn’t actually find it that fantastic, and he wants to ask.

He doesn’t.

They seem to run out of words a little after that, and Louis is fine with it now, because now he has things to think about to keep him occupied instead.

He wonders how it’d be like to have that sort of ability, to just dissolve and disappear from the eyes of the people around him. Louis would travel, if he could do that. He would travel to the endless depths of the ocean and to the highs of the open skies. He would travel to the caves where the trolls lived, he’d listen to their conversations, and he’d watch the elves dance in the middle of the night when Louis is actually supposed to be sleeping. He would probably use it to prank humans, as well; that would be hilarious. He’d use it for running away, too, if he’d do something wrong. It would be really useful, Louis thinks, and he finds himself almost _envious_.

Not that he’d ever give up his wings, he’s not stupid. But it would be so effective to just be able to vanish sometimes. With a power like that, you couldn’t ever be trapped, both literally and figuratively.

 _Wait_.

Hold up.

Louis flies up on his feet faster than he’s ever done before, staring at Harry as realization dawns upon him.

Hold _up_.

“ _Harry_!” he exclaims loudly, causing the other boy to flinch and snap his head in Louis’ direction.

“Holy shit, _what_?” Harry wonders, a tad frantic.

“We can get out! We can get out of here so easily!”

“What?” Harry repeats, but definitely more interested this time, leaning in towards Louis. “How?”

“You’re a _spirit_ , Harry,” Louis beams. “I was thinking, this place contains magic, and it produces dreams for _all_ humans. So, this is a valid place for servants of _any_ world, which means, your powers must be working here. You can do your creepy teleport-emotion-thing. Can’t you?”

Harry’s eyes fly wide open and his jaw drops when he finally understands. “I _can_.”

“And remember when you were being a tool and you took that cane from Camron?”

“Yeah?” The other boy doesn’t even care to remark on Louis’ choice of wording, that’s how blown away he seems to be by this.

“You totally made that object teleport in there with you. Didn’t you?”

“I did. That’s a thing I can do.” Harry nods eagerly.

“Does that extend to other living creatures?”

“It _does_.”

He looks like he’s one step from enthusiastically clapping his hands together in delight from the fact that he can do something he’s been able to do his entire life. Dimples deepen in his cheeks and his eyes actually look like they sparkle. He looks like a five year old and for a second, Louis forgets he’s supposed to hate the guy.

“Well what are we waiting for?” he demands. “Let’s go!”

Harry stands up as well, his breathing rapid. “Right. Okay.”

He holds out his big hand for Louis to take. Louis just stares at it with furrowed eyebrows at first, slowly lifting his gaze to meet Harry’s own with skepticism.

“Look, I know I’m a genius, but there’s no need to get sentimental.”

That seems to bring Harry’s mood back down to normal, and he scoffs with a pointed roll of his eyes.

“I can’t just _make_ something disappear, smartass. There needs to be physical contact involved.” He raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Unless you want to stay in here, that is. But if I remember things correctly, that wasn’t what you said thirty seconds ago.”

“Oh. Right.” Louis looks down and scratches his neck to hide the faint blush that creeps its way onto his face. “Obviously.”

He takes his place next to the other boy, carefully slipping his hand into Harry’s. Harry’s hand once again practically engulfs Louis’ dainty one, that’s how big the size difference is. Louis still isn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

(He still doesn’t hate it, is the thing. And Louis is confused by this, because he usually hates reminders of being tiny.)

“Alright,” Harry sighs. “No sudden movements or thoughts. Don’t try anything. I’ve barely ever done this with another living creature before.”

Wait. _What_?

Louis’ eyes blow wide rapidly, and he looks up at Harry with a horrified expression. “ _Excuse me_?”

“It’s not going to be a big deal,” Harry promises, “if you just nicely float along and don’t decide to try something stupid.”

“Okay.” Louis purses his lips, blinking a couple of times and fidgeting around a little in an attempt to relax and get used to the though. “Do it. Whatever.”

Harry nods one last time, and then Louis is not real anymore.

If he’d still have a jaw to drop and eyes to widen fully open, he would, only he hasn’t. It’s probably the most surreal thing he’s ever felt in his life, this, because he’s _there_ —he’s seeing every jagged crack in the rough stone walls around him and he’s hearing the steps of pacing guards in the hall outside and he’s perfectly able to think and reason. He is _there_ , but he’s not.

He is the air, now. He’s a part of his surroundings. He’s floating around like a corn of dust in the light from sunshine poking through a window, and if there wasn’t something invisible, but indescribably existent, holding him down, Louis feels like he could fly up and up and above the clouds.

 _I get it. It’s cool_ , he hears a voice and immediately stops his analyzing. Harry’s here, too. Obviously. He’s nowhere to be seen, but he’s right there in the back of Louis’ mind, and Louis can feel him roll his eyes at him. _Shut up so I can listen to the relevant people._

Has Louis been speaking out loud? There hasn’t been a single sound leaving him during the entire time.

 _Yeah, if there’s anything you don’t want me to know, this is not the time to think about it. There are no filters here_.

 _I can’t hear you, though_. Louis is disappointed at that, he must admit. He’d like to know how things actually work in that curly head of Harry’s. It’d be nice to get a glimpse of how he sees the world in the position he’s in. There are lots of questions Louis forgot to ask, he realizes.

 _No, because that’s not something everyone can do, it’s especially constructed for my job_ , Harry snorts. _I’m truly touched, pixie, I am, but I reckon you’ll have to keep dreaming._

If Louis would be able to, he’d blush. _Right. Sorry._

_Why are you apologizing all of a sudden?_

_…Because that’s what you do when you discomfort someone,_ Louis reminds him.

_Oh. Right._

It astounds Louis that Harry seems so incredibly clueless to the entire concept of manners. This is the second time he’s had to remind Harry of how apologizing works, and he’s still not getting it, which is a bit unbelievable. With all the work he does around people every day he ought to pick up on some of it, at least.

 _Hey_. Harry almost sounds hurt, and Louis cusses himself out. Two seconds and he’s already forgotten to keep his mind in check.

 _Sorry again_ , he apologizes, and he’s sincere. It’s one thing to just have those thoughts, but it’s a completely different one to have the person of matter having to listen to it when there’s no need for them to. Louis is not a bad person.

 _It’s alright_ , Harry promises, slowly starting to move them out of the room. _I do have manners, by the way._

Louis groans inwardly. _Listen, I’m sure you do when you want to, I didn’t…_

 _I do have manners and I do know when people should apologize to me_ , Harry interrupts. _That just wasn’t a moment fit for an apology._

 _What_?

What does he mean ‘not fit for an apology’? That moment was perfectly fit for an apology. You can’t just _dismiss_ the times Louis is actually able to admit he’s sorry, even if it’s a tiny thing. Even if the only times he’s able to apologize are for tiny things. That’s not something you do.

 _You didn’t discomfort me_ , Harry calmly explains and Louis is almost positive he can hear a smile embedded in those words.

 _Oh_.

Louis decides not to question it.

It’s quiet for a while as Louis lets Harry work. They’re slowly floating out of the room and down the hallways as the spirit tries to find something worth listening to.

 _Liam is with the Red Queen in the great hall_ , he enlightens Louis after a while. _But there’s no way we’ll be able to get him out of there without some kind of distraction. She’s smitten with him_.

He sounds pretty amused at this fact, and Louis wants to tell him off. This isn’t funny, this is awful. Liam must be terrified right now, Louis could only imagine if it’d been him. Not that Louis would be _scared_ or anything. Just, you know. Uncomfortable and slightly anxious about the possibility of the Queen suddenly changing her mood and deciding to snap his neck. Which is totally not the same thing as fear. It’d be terrible, either way, and not a laughing manner.

Then Louis realizes that he doesn’t need to say any of this because Harry can already hear everything, and he catches the spirit’s soft snicker just a few inches away as a reminder.

 _Okay_. Louis chooses to not make that into a conversation and focuses on what Harry had been meaning to say. _How do we distract the Queen?_

_It’ll be really hard, because—hold on._

There’s a sudden dimness in Louis’ mind for a couple of seconds, and then they’re down in the great hall once again. Louis’ eyes quickly find Liam’s location, seated in a red velvet chair right next to the Queen’s. His leg is nervously bopping up and down and his gaze can’t seem to fix on anything for more than five seconds. The Queen is happily blabbering on about the excitement of golfing, and how her flamingo is always the best one, bragging loudly and obnoxiously and Liam just shoots her uneasy smiles whenever it fits.

Harry is chuckling quietly, and Louis is slowly starting to see the cons with this condition because he’d give a lot to have the ability of elbowing Harry in the side right now.

 _You’d probably only reach my hip anyway_ , Harry taunts.

 _I will genuinely fight you_ , Louis threatens. _Right here and now._

_Oh, right. Yes. Good luck physically damage someone while neither of you have a physical body._

Fuck _you._

_Holy shit, pixie. Didn’t know you had it in you._

_…It doesn’t count. I didn’t say it out loud._ Louis figuratively bites his lip, almost a bit ashamed. He’s not completely sure why, though; if it’s because Harry’s foul language has managed to rub off on him, or because he’s… He’s that _righteous_ , so innocent that Harry feels the need to react if he cusses.

Not that he hasn’t made a big deal out of the bad habit in earlier conversations. Louis kind of brought this on himself, he has to admit. Dammit.

_God, pixie, everyone curses. No need to have an existential crisis about it._

Louis really doesn’t want this anymore. It’s starting to get embarrassing with the way he keeps letting his mind run free like this. He can’t help it, he knows, his imagination is one of his better qualities most of the time, but he feels so very exposed now.

 _Leave my head alone_ , he just snarls. _What needs to be done to get out of here?_

Luckily for Louis, Harry lets it go. _The Queen practically never moves out of that seat. Something would have to happen that her guards can’t do for her._

That sounds pretty complicated. Louis hums thoughtfully. _We can’t just wait until she goes to sleep or something?_

Harry snorts. _Don’t be funny. Sleep isn’t a thing here._

 _Right_. _How silly of me. It’s not like I haven’t been here before._

_You don’t need to be an expert to figure out that people don’t sleep in an environment that’s already one big dream._

_God, alright. Shut up._

_No, you_ listen _for once instead of trying to pick a fucking fight._

_I don’t take orders, you appalling piece of trash._

_Do you want to stay here forever, then? Should we just settle down and let the Queen of Hearts have our heads chopped off? Does that sound appealing?_

If Louis had been able to, this would be the part where he’d literally bore through Harry’s nonexistent soul with his eyes. He’s got a good shade of blue for glaring. Piercing ice cold, is what it is. Intimidating and beautiful as hell.

 _Your mind truly is something else, pixie_ , Harry tells him, and Louis can’t even tell if he sounds mocking or impressed. Either way, it’s coming from Harry, so Louis doesn’t like it.

_We can’t… Like, you can’t just get Liam into this spirit-form-thingy as well when the Queen looks away?_

_He’ll be scared if I do that, Louis. And if he’s scared, he’ll be extremely unpredictable and I’ll lose him._

_Tell him with your mind transferring thing, then._

_It’s not entirely sure he’ll understand what’s going on. Just because we managed to snap out of it for a while doesn’t mean he’ll do it as well within a couple of seconds. We don’t know how affected he is by the Queen, he might even try and tell on us. We can’t afford to trust anyone right now._

Dammit. Louis just hates it when Harry’s right. _Can’t trust anyone but each other, then?_

 _Pretty much,_ Harry confirms.

 _Right. Because you’re definitely the one person out of every single soul in the worlds I’d want to be stuck having to trust,_ Louis mutters back sourly.

Harry takes his time to answer for some reason, which confounds Louis a little because he’s usually quick to bite back.

 _That’s really mean,_ is what he finally settles for, mimicking the exact words Louis had said in the cell a little while ago.

It does actually leave Louis quite dumbfounded. It didn’t even sound taunting, the way he’d said it. It’s just a simple statement, and yeah, that is really mean. It dawns upon Louis that that’s a word you can use when talking about his actions. Louis is Mean. He hasn’t really thought of it like that before. Is he?

No, he’s not. That’s just how they are, Louis reasons. Because they hate each other. Harry is mean, too. Louis is overanalyzing this.

 _What do you suggest we do, then?_ he asks, aware and slightly ashamed that Harry has probably heard all of his stupid thoughts once again.

Harry, to Louis relief—and slight confusion—decides to leave it and save Louis from discomfort once again. What are his motives, Louis doesn’t know.

His figurative voice is lowered and steady but audibly thrilled when he explains. _We need to get the Queen to leave her chair, which means we have to do something to put her in a situation where no guards can do her job. She gives the impression that she’s a strong and mighty leader, but really, it’s the guards who keeps this place in check. The Queen just makes the decisions. So, we have to set the guards off._

_I’m listening._

_I know you are. Basically, what we need to do is get every single one of the guards distracted. Or angry, or confused, or absolutely scared shitless, whatever that’ll work the best. We need to make them unable to do their job. The damage has to be so big the Queen is forced to get out of that hall and check for herself what’s going on, and we need the damage to be big enough for her to be so taken aback by it she doesn’t return for a long time._

_Okay_ … Louis wrinkles his forehead. He sees many flaws with this reasoning, but there is particularly one that he’s especially hung up on. _So… The… The two of us. Us two, us as a pair, you and I both. We are, together, as a team on two…_

Yes _, Louis. Us two. Co-operating. Teaming up. Get to the fucking point._

 _You need to stop._ It’s not Louis’ fault this plan seems a little lacking of, well, complete rationality. That’s all on Harry and his imagined superiority. _So, we,_ alone _, are going to succeed with creating a chaos so chaotic that_ every single guard _in this damn castle are suddenly unable to do their job? Do you know how many people that is? Do you know what kind of catastrophe we’d have to create? How on Earth will we do that?_

Harry doesn’t answer, but Louis can feel the air around him turn into something sly, and they’re suddenly in a hallway several floors up. Two guards are patrolling here as well, from one side to another in a strict pace, faces stern and focused on the heart patterned walls.

Louis feels a kind of static power thicken the air just the slightest, and he tentatively looks around for a sign of what Harry’s planning to do.

The adamant silence is suddenly broken by a loud shriek. One of the guards jump a couple of feet up in the air just as he passes his coworker, dropping his spear to tightly press his paper thin hands against his backside.

“ _Ow_!” he exclaims with a scolding glare at the other guard. “What did you do that for?”

The other guard frowns. “Do what?”

“You poked me with the javelin, you idiot!”

The accusation makes the other guard’s mouth drop in shocking offense. “Would _I_? A respectable guardian? Who do you _take_ me for, Seven?”

Seven—apparently—merely shakes his head in disbelief and turns his back to his companion to keep walking. Something stops him, though, because the second he turns around, he lets out a high pitched yell, and he furiously turns again, rubbing his back as good as he can.

“I cannot _believe_ you! You almost ripped me, you incompetent fool!”

The other play card—Louis remembers him from outside when they were captured, remembers recognizing a nine in the upper corner, so he’s guessing the name is Nine—has his eyes blown wide, and he looks extremely offended by the words. “I have done you absolutely nothing! _Nothing_!”

“What is this mockery even about?” Seven demands. “Are you so incredibly childish that you’re still upset about miss Six of Diamonds? Is a literal stab in the back relieving your petty jealousy?”

An appalled gasp falls off Nine’s lips. “ _Seven_ ,” he scolds, clutching a hand over the heart in his left corner. He’s visibly hurt by Seven’s words, and Louis understands exactly what’s going on now.

This is Harry’s work. Why is this Harry’s work?

“So typical of you to bring that up again right when I’ve started to finally forget,” Nine continues, tone icing cold. “I am a man of honour, my fellow heart, and I do not engage in such childlike behavior. I’m mortified you’re even accusing me of this, especially after all the pain you’ve already caused me.”

“All the pain _I_ caused _you_? Let’s not forget your deal with the Cheshire cat!”

“That was _ages_ ago!”

Harry giggles softly in the back of Louis consciousness. _There is so much dirt between the guards in this place. Every single one has buttons to push._

Seven of Hearts is trembling with anger. “I have had it up to _here_ with you, Nine! I’ve tried to be noble and forgive all your wrongs, but I cannot hold in my terrible and genuine dislike for you any longer. You are a nasty excuse for a Heart and you know what? I am glad for what happened between Six of Diamonds and I. I quite loathe you, now that I think about it! And I know for a fact,” he grits the last part out through his teeth, eyes menacingly dark, “that she agreed with me to one hundred percent.”

That seems to be the last straw for Nine, and with a roar, he grips his spear tightly and aims right for Seven’s stomach (would stomach be accurate? Louis doesn’t know). Seven quickly maintains his own weapon to block the murder attempt, and then they’re ferociously fencing their way down the hallway. They’re being so loud that other play cards are emerging from both left and right to see what’s going on, and they certainly get a show when the first thing they see is Nine and Seven of Hearts, under ear splitting warrior cries, crash into the beautiful windows right by the staircase and recklessly falling the fifty meters they have until the ground. Louis and Harry listen breathlessly as distressed noise is starting to arise from down in the garden as well, and Harry sighs, content.

If they’d still been in their physical forms, Louis would stare at Harry like there’s no tomorrow until he’d stridently demand a thorough explanation of exactly what the hell that was.

 _So that was mildly disturbing,_ he states, _but I still don’t understand what the point was._

If they’d still been in their physical forms, Louis is one hundred percent positive Harry’s smile would be endlessly impish and the green in his eyes a sparkly kind of mischievous.

 _Point is, chaos will be easy to create. You forget who my mother is, darling_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> so when i realized this chapter would be too long to have as a single one, i split it up in two different documents. and omg. guess what happened??? the second part was deleted off my computer. the whole thing. gone. SOOO i'm currently completely rewriting a 7000-word work :) which completely set me back on my writing schedule :) amazing :) i love life :) 
> 
> so the next chapter might be a tiny bit late, but hopefully it won't be. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed 5k of harry and louis bonding and bickering. idek. 
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading and liking and commenting, it means the world to me and you're all so so so so nice i can't believe you thank you so much xxxxx
> 
> (and, as always, you can find me on my tumblr a-bit-extraordilarry and every single interaction on there makes me v happy)


	10. chapter 8 part b; wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Liam has positively never been put in a more luxurious situation ever before.

The chair he’s been provided with is clad in dark red velvet and the cushions are soft and comfortable. The shoes he’s been given are made of the smoothest leather, and they fit perfectly around his feet, the woolen insides brushing comfortably against his ankles. The jacket hanging on his shoulders is capacious and warm, and the fabric smells of roses. It’s absolutely unreal.

Still, Liam has never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

It’s not that the Queen is being cruel to him; she’s on the contrary very nice, chatting on about golfing and tea parties and the countless other wonders of Wonderland. Liam should probably be enjoying himself.

It’s just that his head is so _light_. He feels like he’s one single thought away from floating out of this chair and up into space, that’s how light his mind is, and it’s so _confused_. He’s been trying to do math in his head for the past five minutes, but he can’t even remember what numbers look like. He doesn’t know what the alphabet looks like. He can’t remember anything of substance, all he knows are shapes and emotion, and he _detests_ it.

The Queen of Hearts gradually lets her story fade out as all the answers she’s getting from Liam are nods and nervous smiles, and she decides to go for a different approach.

“This must be a lot to take in,” she smiles kindly. “Where are you from?”

“Uh. Grimm. So, it’s. Yeah. It’s a lot,” Liam stutters out breathily. He forces a reassuring smile onto his face to not upset the Queen, though. Partly because he’s a nice person, and partly because he’s scared her temper will completely flip like a switch the second he says or does something wrong. Everything is unpredictable and it frustrates him.

“It’s alright,” the Queen promises. “You should be glad. I saved you from those two…” she frowns in disgust, “other criminals you came with. That is not the company you want.”

Liam is pretty sure that’s exactly the company he wants, especially now, but he’s not dumb enough to say it out loud. “Why… Why did you send them away but kept me here?”

He crosses fingers and toes that that’s an acceptable thing to say. Luckily for him, the Queen just grins happily, so it must be alright. “Oh, hun. You’re _kind_. The other two had obvious problems with pride and superiority. Even the little one, yes, despite looking modest and gentle he thinks very highly of himself, and people like that are not to be trusted. Besides,” she leans backwards to rest her oversized head against the smooth velvet, “I’ve needed a new favorite for a while.”

A _new_ favorite? Meaning, there had been _other_ favorites before Liam?

Liam gulps. “What—what happened to the others?”

The Queen waves her hands dismissively. “They proved to be unreliable in the end. Luxury and fortune can get to anyone. So I got rid of them. No biggie.”

 _Got rid of them_.

As far as Liam knows by now, he won’t be able to escape from here. The only thing he could possibly come up with is to just get up and run for it, but he’s more than willing to admit that that plan lacks in both intelligence and safety. His only hope for now, is that Harry and Louis are having more luck than him. Which, unfortunately considering the circumstances, is highly unlikely. Liam sighs and wonders how the hell he ended up here.

It’s kind of a pity he actually likes the pair. He’s grown attached Louis’ blind alacrity and biting commentary, he’s quite fond of Harry’s sarcasm and amused judging of Louis. Surely it’s not good for Liam’s health, but here he is.

It’s the two’s dynamic that confuses Liam the most. He’s not sure where they actually stand, because it’s so obvious they hate each other in every meaning of the word. There’s no doubt, and Liam could’ve handled just that. It’s when Liam catches Louis’ eyes soften when Harry hugs Taylor, or sees Harry’s concerned frown when Louis is in distress, that things get difficult, and Liam doesn’t know what to do with it. It gets even worse though, when he all of a sudden stumbles upon Louis looking ready to kiss Harry just because he wets his lips. That’s when Liam _really_ doesn’t know what to do.

Sigh.

His thoughts don’t get to wander much further, because then he’s snapped out of it by the Queen’s shrill voice.

“Oh, my, I almost forgot!” she exclaims, before yelling so loudly the crystal chandeliers hanging above their heads tremble, “ _Jack_! Jack, get in here!”

A Jack of Hearts immediately appears from behind them, hand raised in a salute. “You called, your majesty?”

“Get the drink and the cake in here this instant!” the Queen demands stridently.

Jack nods, and in the shortest time possible, he leaves, comes back with a piece of cake and a bottle with an unknown liquid, and disappears faster than he arrived.

“Since you’re living here now,” the Queen begins giddily, handing Liam the two items, “you will notice that the palace tends to shift in size depending on where you go, so, you’ll need these to adapt. The drink will make you smaller, and the cake—“

Liam pales visibly at the ‘since you’re living here’ part, but the Queen doesn’t even get to finish her explanation, because a paining scream from outside cuts her off.

Liam and the Queen looks to the big panorama window just in time to see Nine and Seven of Hearts sail down, spears aimed to kill and mouths stretched in furious roars.

The fall is soon followed by an eruption of horrified noise from the garden, and Liam and the Queen exchange bewildered looks.

“ _Jack_!” The Queen yells again, just as loud as last time. Jack is there just as quickly. “Collect the other guards inside the castle and go out to see what in the worlds is going on out there. It sounds like someone’s dying.”

Judging by the disturbing vision they’d just had the displeasure to witness by the window, Liam bets someone probably is.

Jack, ever the obedient guardian, does as she says, and within a matter of minutes, there’s a vehement group of red playing cards making their way out to the garden, spears sharpened and pointed forwards to intimidate any sort of threat that might be out there. Liam feels sorry for whoever brought this on. He has a feeling the Queen won’t be very merciful about this. Call him crazy.

The whole ‘see what’s going on’ plan of the Queen’s doesn’t really seem to work, though. As soon as the big doors close after the mass of cards, the determined yells are turned into agonizing shouts, and Liam can practically _hear_ them all running separate ways in fear.

Apparently, so can the Queen, and the crease between her eyebrows deepens alarmingly.

“ _What_?” she bursts out, extremely annoyed. “Did they just—those are my very best men! Did you hear their petty screams, Liam?”

Liam can only nod in confirmation, and that seems enough for her.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Well, someone needs to check what’s going on. Liam, do you think you could be a darling and take a look at what’s going out outside? And leave the doors open so I can see, as well.”

Liam sees a possible, if he’s incredibly lucky, chance to escape, and he nods and straightens his back to raise to his feet.

Sadly, he doesn’t get that far, because the second he stands up, his leg cramps up terribly, and it’s the worst thing he’s ever felt.

He yelps out a pained “Ow!” and clutches his thigh tightly, sinking down in the chair again under rugged breaths. It doesn’t stop, and he throws his head back with a grimace, whimpering out small complaints.

The Queen looks understandably concerned. “Liam, dear? Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Liam gasps out, massaging his clenching muscles. “I’m fine, give me—two seconds.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Just a bit, it’ll pass.” Liam isn’t sure it’ll pass, if he’s honest. At this rate he doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop and he forcefully shuts his eyes together.

The Queen puts a comforting hand of his shoulder. “It’s obvious you’re hurting a lot, what brought this on?”

“I—I don’t know.” It comes out as a whimper and Liam’s a tiny bit humiliated. The highly unpleasant tightening and aching of his thighs overpowers pretty much any other relevant emotion, though, and the Queen lets out a soft hum.

“Don’t worry. I guess I’ll go look, then,” she says, ending on a sigh. “It’s not too far to carry my head, is it? I get tired very easily.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Liam tries to be encouraging in-between his heavy breathing. “I believe in you.”

It sure seems like the right thing to say, as the Queen smiles warmly at him upon hearing those words, before ever so slowly, standing up from her chair. The wrinkle between her eyebrows is determined now, and it doesn’t vanish as she steadies herself, gripping the arm rest of her chair for support. She stomps a little with her heels to get used to the feeling, and then she straightens right up, throwing a triumphant smile at—still in just barely bearable pain—Liam, who presses a smile upon his lips in reply. Or, as much of a smile as he can muster when he’s strongly considering cutting off his leg to end the torture.

But then the Queen starts walking, and the second she takes her third step forward, the cramping stops abruptly in Liam’s leg, and Liam sinks back in his chair in exhaustion, not even putting effort into wondering what had even caused it in his relief of it being over. He doesn’t stop the Queen from walking, figuring that 1. He’s too tired, and 2. Maybe he could escape after a little bit of recovery.

He doesn’t get to hold that thought for very long.

The second the Queen is out the door, familiar voices are heard on Liam’s left, and he jumps in his seat as Louis and Harry pull him up, and tell him to “Go, go, go, before she comes back!”

The three of them run out of the hall as quickly as they can, rounding an empty corner to stop and catch their breath.

Liam looks at them, puzzled. “How did you get here?”

Louis immediately puffs out his chest with a grin (here we go) and opens his mouth eagerly.

“Well you see, we _were_ locked up in a terrible prison cell, but then I managed to save the both of us, and now we’re saving you.”

Harry snorts and gives him a snarky look. “ _You_ saved us? _I’m_ the one who got us out and put this whole plan into action!”

“Well, would you have been able to if I hadn’t reminded you?”

“I’m sure I’d come up with it myself after a while.”

“Well. I’m not.”

Liam groans and slaps his palm over his forehead. “God, you _really_ have a lot more in common than you’d ever want to admit, you know that?”

It’s true, Liam has never met two people as proud and sure of themselves as Harry and Louis. It’s still amazing to him, how they haven’t killed each other yet. He’s still hoping he’ll find a way to tame them, but he’s slowly but surely starting to realize that that’ll probably never happen. Ever.

His words certainly distracts Harry and Louis from the silly argument, though, as they trip over their words trying to sputter out protests to this apparently outrageous allegation, and Liam can’t help but roll his eyes in faint amusement. Like a pair of children, they are.

“Guys,” he reminds them. “I literally don’t care. What’s this plan about?”

Harry throws him an annoyed glance before speaking up. “We had to get the Queen up and moving so we could get you out of here safely, so uh… We—I—kind of turned all the guards against each other to create so much chaos the Queen would have no choice but to do something about it herself. And here we are.”

Liam’s eyes widen comically in realization. “Hold on. So those two guards who fell down outside… That was your work?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiles sheepishly, fidgeting with his fingers. “And the guards who fell down on from the balcony a floor up a couple of minutes ago to land on the house of cards in the making under them. And the flamingos who started running wild trying to pick the guards apart. Of course, followed by all the hedgehogs, dogs, cats, rabbits and other poor animals used for the Queen’s entertainment.” He pauses, and Liam desperately hopes that’s it, but it’s not, as Harry’s eyebrows soon shoot up in remembrance. “Oh! And also the Queen of Hearts who’s currently crying her eyes out on the porch because they had the wrong sandwiches at her breakfast buffet this morning. Also, the hedge is on fire. Jokes on the Queen for using torches to light up the dungeon staircase.”

There’s not much for Liam to do but stare at the indifferent spirit in disbelief. “This is absolutely terrible. Wait, were you the one who cramped up my leg as well?”

Harry merely shrugs. “That, I’m genuinely sorry about. We just really needed it to be the Queen who left the room. We couldn’t exactly have this talk on the porch.”

Liam’s brow is furrowed as he continues his staring, baffled. “Do you _know_ how much that hurt? My muscles are still sore!”

“No, they’re not,” Harry states nonchalantly, “If they were, I’d know. I’d be behind it. Listen, do you want out or not?”

“Of course I want out.”

“Then we sadly can’t afford being ethical. Now, I can’t afford taking two people with me into my other form because I haven’t tried keeping two different minds in place at the same time before, and I’m not about to try. Is there possibly a subtle backdoor somewhere around here?”

“Don’t worry,” Louis whispers to Liam, and Liam thinks that’s probably the longest he’s gone without speaking since they met. “I think this is awful, too. Which is exactly why we’re not even a _little_ _bit alike_ —“

“I have no idea,” Liam cuts him off, emphatically fixing his eyes on Harry. “This place is huge, though. We’d probably get to the maze quicker by the head entrance.”

“Right,” Harry runs a hand through his hair, pushing his curly fringe back from his face and then looks at Louis. “Are you okay with that?”

Louis snorts. “What, you actually care?”

“Right, excuse me. I forgot I’m supposed to still not give a shit about any of you. Which is exactly why I’ve done the opposite this entire time.” Harry’s jaw is tense as he nails Louis to his place with his green gaze. “Sorry for wanting your opinion.”

He doesn’t get a proper answer, which has Liam relieved because he’s just really, really not in the mood for another argument already. He needs to build up tolerance and maturity for that shit, and this is not exactly the time.

Louis gives him a half-hearted glare and an eye roll before finally honoring them with an answer. “Well. If it’s still as much of a catastrophe out there as it was when we got in here, then we should be able to sneak around to the back without drawing too much attention to ourselves. I guess.”

“Alright.” Harry nods, instantly turning to approach the huge doors, still standing half open, and Liam’s stomach churns slightly at the noise coming from outside now that he knows exactly what’s going on.

He determinedly pushes it away though, as he and Louis follow the curly haired boy, stopping by the entrance to peek out and get a hold of the situation.

Liam is met by a, quite honestly, disturbing sight. His eyes pace in alarm from one side to the other, wandering from the burning hedge, to the fighting guards, to the livid animals. The Queen is sitting only a few feet away with her back turned to Liam, sobbing uncontrollably while Jack is roaming around in panic-like bewilderment trying to find out what it is she wants. He’s not having a lot of luck, Liam states.

“Alright,” he leans in and whispers to Harry. “Let’s go, then. To the left?”

Harry nods and repeats it in a hushed tone to Louis, who starts walking with caution in his steps. The three of them make sure to walk as close to the castle wall as possible, staying out of the mess only meters away. It’s actually going unrealistically well. Everyone’s too busy with their own urgent problems, no one even notices the three of them, and Harry soon falls behind as he starts working creatures up into even rougher frenzies to make sure they’ll be too busy to notice. They get to the back of the castle with childlike ease, and Liam is relieved they’re not getting a hard time for once.

That doesn’t really last.

Liam almost starts crying when they reach the entrance of the maze, and it proves to be blocked by a well-built pyramid of cards.

Of course the universes couldn’t let them have this. The universes won’t let them have anything nice.

“What do we do _now_?” Liam asks with a frantic look at Louis.

Louis warily looks back at Harry a couple of meters behind him, who’s still busy with putting people in foul moods and immense pain to ensure their focus will still be fixed on something else.

“I don’t know,” he replies, brow furrowed with anxiety. “Maybe we could, like—blow really hard? Or like crawl under, I’m sure they wouldn’t—“

But then he’s interrupted by a piercing yelp from a card of Diamonds in the bottom row, yelling furiously about _his back breaking, his back breaking_ , before losing control and falling. He takes every single one of his colleagues with him, and cards are sailing down and swirling around helplessly as Harry grips Louis and Liam by the arms and just hisses “Run,” before dragging them into the intimidating labyrinth.

Liam didn’t ever think there would actually be a moment in his life where he’d think this, but he establishes that for the moment, he’s happy Harry’s got this specific set of powers.

The labyrinth is big, it’s dark, it’s threatening, and Liam wants out before he even properly got in. Harry doesn’t seem fazed by this at all, as he still hasn’t let go of them and is, without so much as a worried frown, pulling them further into the labyrinth, away from the chaos outside.

One of the first things Liam realizes as they’re running, is that neither Harry nor Louis seem to have any sort of problem with running out of breath. Louis’ wings are fluttering rapidly without any signs of possible exhaustion, and Harry must have the greatest stamina in all the worlds or it’s a spirit thing, because his breathing is perfectly regular, and as calm as it can be when you’re running through a dimmed maze looking for a portal you have no idea where it is, while possibly being hunted down by a hoard of aggressive guards.

This is going to be a problem. Because Liam is a good runner, great even, definitely better than most, but he’s also currently just human. And he can already feel the air clogging and hitching on its way out of his throat, and he can already feel the way his calves stretch and he can’t block out the awful sound of his own strained breath, making him fully aware of how tired he’s about to become.

This is definitely going to be a problem, because Liam won’t be able to keep this pace throughout the entire labyrinth. The mere thought quite frankly puts him in fatigue.

Harry is slowly releasing his tight grip on Louis and Liam as they run, until they’re all running—or flying, in Louis case, the lucky bastard—by themselves, Liam looking behind them every three seconds. They haven’t seen any guards yet. Maybe he could, maybe he could take a break, rest for a bit, just like, a minute. Like, really quickly. It’d truly make him feel one hundred percent better about this situation, he’s so stressed up about the escape itself still, and it’s just adding to his increasingly pounding heart. He’s scared it’ll burst out of his ribcage. Liam isn’t sure what he’d do about his heart lying in a sad puddle in front of him. Maybe then he’d get a free pass to rest.

Harry and Louis remain unaffected by it all, and Liam is finding himself falling behind. He purses his lips in concentration and surges forward the best he can in an attempt at catching up, but it doesn’t really work as he soon is watching their backs once again. His two friends don’t even seem to notice his struggle, as they only keep pushing harder and harder, only throwing challenging glances at each other.

They have literally made running for their lives into a competition, Liam realizes. This is fucking ridiculous.

It actually makes Liam kind of angry, how distractible they are, how quickly they seem to have forgotten about him and his poor, poor lungs in the back just because of some petty rivalry. This is worse than third wheeling a couple.

If they can’t see his struggles, then he might as well stop anyway. He would ask them if they could halt, but it’s evident they wouldn’t care anyway, as into the feud as they are. They’re outrageous. Liam decides to scold them both as soon as they find safe ground.

But for now, he doesn’t have the strength, and he stops. His muscles are aching as the straining he’s had to do washes over him, and he bends over to put his sweaty palms on his knees, catching his breath.

That’s when Liam sees him.

There’s a boy, just rounding a corner from one of the other ways in the labyrinth. He’s walking slowly and carefully, watching his surroundings with wonder. He looks terribly out of place, wearing only a gray t-shirt, and washed out sweat pants swung low on his hips. His dark, feathery hair swoops over his forehead tiredly, and Liam thinks he’s beautiful.

Liam is supposed to do something. There’s something Liam is supposed to do this very second, but he can’t bring himself to even move a single inch, because that’s the moment the stranger before him looks straight forward and locks his warm, brown gaze with Liam’s own.

His face is _insane_. Every line and crook is perfectly symmetrical and gentle, lips pouty and full and eyelashes thicker than Liam’s throat this exact moment. He looks so carefully and tenderly constructed in a way Liam hasn’t seen. It’s like his features are drawn with a gentle painting brush by an artist who’s newly fallen in love. That’s what he looks like, Liam thinks. He looks like falling in love.

The boy also looks intrigued, tilting his head curiously to the side, slowly approaching Liam where he’s standing completely frozen in his spot.

Liam barely even blinks, awaiting the stranger to finally reach him, waiting for him to come so close that Liam can count his eyelashes—

And then Harry and Louis grip his arms tight, pulling him with them, away and away and away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis hisses frantically. Liam frowns, looking back with worry. What’s going to happen with his stranger?

“I didn’t know you cursed,” is what tumbles out of his mouth.

Louis groans and Harry chuckles.

“’You are so _vulgar’_ ,” Harry mocks.

“Literally don’t even look at me until you’re ready to never disgrace my poetic use of beautiful words with your sinful tongue ever again.”

Harry doesn’t take the demand very seriously, just snickers out a “sinful tongue, hm?”, and keeps running. Liam thinks that it’s almost kind of nice to hear them bicker. It’s like, no matter how deep the shit they’re in might be, they’ll always have that one thing of familiarity that’ll never change. It’s almost making him emotional.

“Guys,” he tries. “Guys. There was a boy over there.”

“How nice,” Harry deadpans, his face expressing no forms of emotion.

This is not right. Liam’s stranger could get deeply injured here. The guards could be anywhere, and if there is one thing they lack—except possibly thickness—it’s mercy. “He was all alone, guys. All alone and confused. What if he gets hurt?”

“We can’t risk it,” Harry sighs, “sorry.”

Liam look helplessly to Louis as a last resort, hoping that maybe it would strike a chord in Louis’ heart, at least. It wouldn’t be like him to leave a creature in need like this, and if Louis wanted something, Harry would soon give in as well.

(Liam isn’t sure if that’s a part of their confusing dynamic, or if that’s just Louis’ impeccable ability to be persuasive.)

Louis does look hesitant, looking back with a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. Then he stops abruptly, and Harry almost trips in his attempt to slow down, and Liam could cry with relief. Louis is a true comrade. Bless him and his kind heart borderline god complex.

“Wait,” he demands. “Liam’s right.”

Harry stares at his two companions for a long time, before he sighs deeply. “Listen. If we could afford taking that chance, I’d be all for it, but we genuinely can’t. We don’t know how far away the guards are, and if they’re too close, they’ll just have one more person to kill.”

“Oh, come on,” Louis whines. “It’s worth it! Just because _you’re_ okay with leaving a person behind to die, all heartless and cruel as you are doesn’t mean _we_ —“

The way Harry’s eyes darken and his mouth crumples into an ugly line makes Liam very aware that Louis should not have said that.

The spirit doesn’t waste time in storming up to Louis until they’re only inches apart, locking their eyes wrathfully and roughly cutting him off mid-sentence.

“I am _fucking_ trying, Louis,” he grits out between his teeth. “Ever since we got into this situation I have been trying my very best to prove that I can be reliable, and loyal, and whatever the fuck you need me to be. I found Mother Gothel’s portal. I didn’t use it when I could’ve. I helped you at Mother Hulda’s. I guided you through killing Gothel, and I did all the dirty work. I got the information we needed out of Nick, and I got us out of that dungeon when I could’ve just left all of you behind and escaped. I am trying so hard, Louis, I’ve literally done things my mother would _disown_ me for if she knew, but you’re so far up your own ass you can’t even see it.”

“Oh, _boohoo_ ,” Louis cries, evidently riled up by Harry’s speech. Fury is raging in his ice blue eyes like lightning, and oh no, this is bad. This is so bad. He throws his hands up in the air to underline his anger, and Liam thinks, they’re going to kill each other. This is the final straw.

“And want do you want for that, Harry?” the fairy continues icily, “A round of applause and me kissing your ass because you’re acting like a decent person? Because, newsflash, Styles—not abandoning someone in a lethal situation isn’t something you should have to ‘ _try hard_ ’ to refrain from.”

Louis is a head shorter than Harry is. That’s a fact. But Liam is watching as Harry _falters_ under his words. Liam sees Harry’s shoulders sink with every razor sharp syllable leaving Louis’ lips. He sees Harry’s face crumble and his lower lip wobble.

It’s the most horrible thing Liam has ever seen in his entire life.

“I do not care if you had the worst upbringing in all of the worlds. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a bad creature, and you’re completely undeserving of any kindness of mine.”

Louis might as well just slap him in the face and be done with it, because Harry looks like he did. He stumbles backwards, face distorted into something that so obviously screams ‘hurt’ that Liam has trouble looking for more than a couple of seconds.

Liam decides that’s definitely enough, and he’s opening his mouth to tell them off.

Sadly (or probably fortunately), he doesn’t get the time to. Because just as he’s letting the first word roll off of his tongue, there are other noises heard, and then a roaring hoard of guards are brutally approaching with great stamina and speed.

And so instead, they run, and the argument is completely forgotten for the moment.

“Shit,” Harry swears, “what do we do now?”

Liam doesn’t know, but his muscles are still hurting. His calves are straining and his shoulder blades are aching, his feet are sore from stomping so violently to the ground. The bottle and the—probably crushed by now—cake is weighing down his pocket uncomfortably, and they hit against his thigh crudely with every step. He knows he won’t be able to do this for a lot longer in his human form.

“We need to outrun them!” Louis yells to overpower the uproar just meters behind them.

Yeah, Liam thinks, that’s not going to work.

“I—“ he gasps, “I don’t think I can do that. We’ve been running a lot.”

Louis gives him an apprehensive glance. “Of course you can. You’re a wolf. You can run.”

Liam likes Louis, he really does. But sometimes his naivety is striking.

“Do I look like a wolf to you right now?” Liam splutters.

“Well,” Louis looks back, panic rising in his pointy face. “Become a wolf, then! Do something, because we need to get so far away from them they won’t know which way we went. We need to be able to figure out some kind of plan, or else we won’t be able to do this. It’ll be fine, I’ll fly and Harry can do his own creepy thing. We’ll be gone before they know it.”

Liam throws his an incredulous look. “But—communication!” he exclaims. “We need to be able to communicate, and that’s pretty fucking difficult when Harry’s invisible and I _bark_.”

“We don’t need communication,” Harry interjects. “If we just decide that you take the lead and we follow you until you deem it safe, we won’t need to talk.”

He’s not even a little out of breath, and neither is Louis. Liam envies them both.

This is can’t be a good idea. They’re clearly taking advantage of the fact that Liam is tired and oxygen deprived due to the shortness of his breath.

But Liam can’t find any good counterarguments, so with a groan, he empties his pockets, throwing the bottle and the—worth noting, not crumbled—piece of cake to Harry, who catches them smoothly, and then he explodes into his other form.

 

~

 

Liam, Louis learns, is a fast runner as a wolf.

And by fast, he means _fast_. To the point where Louis almost has trouble keeping up, and wings are generally a quicker way of transportation than any kind of legs.

He’s not complaining, though, as he lets Liam take the lead, and he throws a quick glance back to see the playing cards grow increasingly smaller with every leap forward Liam takes, and he exhales deeply in relief.

They’re at least going to succeed with outrunning them. It’s a calming thought, so Louis focuses on that for now.

These are the kind of moments Louis really, really wishes he had some sort of super strength. He’d be able to save the day so easily, just grabbing Harry and Liam by the arm and fly up above the maze and to the portal. No one would ever be able to catch up. Also, Louis would be a hero and it’s not like he’d ever decline that opportunity.

As it is, he thinks sadly and throws a disappointed glance at his averagely strong arms. They’re nice arms, no doubt, nicer than most. But physical beauty just isn’t cutting it at times like these. Which is terribly unfortunate, but Louis supposes he’ll manage.

Soon enough the three of them are deeper into the labyrinth than ever and the guards are long gone, so Liam the Wolf decides it’s a good time to slow down, rounding one last corner before stopping completely and turning to face Louis. Harry also reappears beside him, stretching out his back with a satisfied expression.

“So that went well,” he declares, as Liam changes back into his human form, promptly sitting down on the ground for a couple of minutes to catch his breath. “What now?”

“We need to,” Liam huffs, “find a simple way to get to the portal. We might never find it if our only strategy is running around aimlessly.”

Louis, again, wishes he was stronger. He wants to save the day so badly it aches under his skin. He feels a little inferior at the moment, as Harry has practically done everything to get them to where they are right now. And Louis himself has practically done nothing. Or, well, he came up with the idea of Harry getting them out, which is fantastic, but. He can’t stand Harry, once again, saving the goddamn day when he’s not deserving of the gratitude that follows.

Speaking of Harry, he’s the one who takes the initiative next, holding up the cake and the drink Liam had thrown his way before turning into a wolf.

“Liam?” he starts tentatively. “Um. So what exactly are these?”

“Oh,” Liam’s expression first form into one of recognition, then deliberation, and finally, realization. The corners of his lips perk upwards. “That, is our way to the portals.”

He’s met with two blank faces, and he rolls his eyes as he takes the drink and the cake from Harry and examines them for a moment, before looking back up. Louis has no idea of what’s going on.

“Alright,” Liam holds out the weird objects in his hands. “We should be far enough away to use these without the guards catching up on us.”

“It’s a piece of cake and a bottle.”

“Great observation, Louis, really,” Liam deadpans. “The Queen gave these to me with the intention of me living for the rest of my life in her castle. She said the rooms in the castle tended to change in size a lot, so I needed these to adjust. Basically, one of these makes you grow and one makes you smaller.”

Liam pauses to see if the two’s gotten his plan yet. The empty blinks of his friends proves him wrong.

He sighs. “One of us need to turn as big as possible. Like, consume the whole thing. That way we’ll be able to get a good view of the maze and where the portal is, and we can also overpower the guards and set them back, if necessary.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Louis exclaims, eyes wide in amazement. “That’s really smart, Liam! I volunteer to grow!”

He beams at the shape shifter. He can hear Harry burst out a laugh next to him, slapping his big hand over his mouth to stifle it.

“You _volunteer to grow_ ,” he sniggers. “Been doing that your whole life, haven’t you?”

Louis doesn’t indulge Harry with more attention than an unimpressed glare. Thing is, he _has_ been waiting his whole life for an opportunity like this. Liam just handed him immediate ferocity on a silver platter—probably only momentarily, but he graciously overlooks that part. He has never gotten a chance like this in his life ever before, and he’s seriously doubting he’ll get it again.

Louis takes a look at the high, intimidating walls of the labyrinth. He guesses they’re at least twenty feet tall. For this plan to work, Louis would have to be taller than twenty feet. That’s almost a _giant’s_ size.

Louis’ heart jumps erratically in his chest as he realizes his chance has _come_. His dream is coming true.

“Which one will make me big?” he asks with probably a tad too much enthusiasm.

“Well,” Liam muses, eyeing Louis with amusement. “I think she said the drink makes you smaller. So my guess is the cake.”

Louis has to strain himself not to actually make grabby hands after the cake as he reaches out for it. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

Liam hands him the soft piece of cake, starting to tell Louis something about being careful and begin with small bites, but Louis has already stuffed half of it into his mouth, chewing with fervor and waiting for the world to grow smaller.

And it does.

Louis watches, eyes huge and filled to the brink with wonder as the ground grows farther and farther away, until he’s starting to worry he’ll have to send postcards to his feet if he ever wants to get in touch with them again. The top of the maze is gracing Louis’ fingertips when he finally stops expanding, and Louis has never felt this alive.

There are mixed cries erupting from a little behind them, and Louis instantly sinks down on his knees in an attempt to get closer to Harry and Liam, and to collect himself before officially starting his mission.

His—usually several inches taller—friends are now small enough to comfortably take a seat on Louis’ shoulders. Louis can’t stop a grin from spreading across his entire face, crinkling his eyes into thin lines. He feels something tiny poke his cheek.

“Stop grinning and get on with things,” Harry demands. He looks little and helpless and done, and Louis giggles.

“I will remember this moment for the rest of my life,” he promises, and then he raises to his full height once again, and beings to search after the, by now familiar, blue light that signifies a portal.

The guards are now, absolutely enraged, chasing and searching for the correct path that’ll lead them to the now giant fairy in the middle of it all. Louis sees it happen, and he smirks as he lowers himself once again.

“Sorry, I just _really_ need to do this,” he tells his companions who are clutching the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, and Louis bends over so his head is only inches above the hoard of guards.

He inhales deeply before blowing as hard as he can on the group, and the cards drop their spears as they set of, whirling and flying under excruciating protests, setting them back even further on their mission to hunt the trio down.

Louis stands up again with a satisfied smile, Harry and Liam praising him in his ear.

He is big. He is intimidating. He is _ferocious_. The play cards had flown away helplessly by Louis merely blowing out air through his mouth. Obviously he didn’t hurt anyone, the cards will be just fine when they land again except probably a bit or a lot confused, so it’s not like he’s—he’s _Harry_ or anything, but he can’t deny that he’s feeling good as hell.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he tells the boys giddily, scanning his blue eyes over the maze again, concentrating on finding what they’re looking for.

“I’m sure, pixie,” Harry pats him on the skin right by the hem of his shirt collar, and it’s truly astonishing how, even when Louis is literally over twenty feet tall and Harry is the size of a fly in comparison, he still manages to be _condescending_.

Still, Louis only snickers. He’s got the true upper hand here. “Who’s the actual pixie now, though?”

“Aw, you’ll always be a pixie to me,” Harry promises. “No matter how much you grow.”

That is so not an answer Louis wants, and he flicks Harry’s head with his pinky finger. “You know, I did always think there was something very off with your appearance, but I haven’t truly been able to put my finger on what until now.”

“Excuse me?” Harry looks hilariously offended by this, and Louis has to fight to keep a straight face. It’s rare to find someone as aware of their physical appeal as himself, and it’s truly hilarious to finally be able to use that against someone else.

“Your head is literally so big it’s just now looking regular sized to me.”

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Harry groans. He’s visibly less affronted by being called conceited than ugly, and that truly fascinates Louis. If he’s honest, he’d probably do the same. He thinks it’s because he sort of takes pride in being confident, so it’s not that big of a deal when someone points it out to him. He’ll just take it as a good thing. There isn’t really a lot to do if someone insults your appearance.

Liam’s words echo uncomfortably in his head, so Louis quickly shakes it off and focuses on the issue at hand again. _You really have a lot more in common than you want to admit_.

Liam is the one who finds the portal. With a sudden exclaim and a pointing finger he interrupts Louis’ thoughts, and Louis looks where the tiny hand wants him to, and he sees it as well, he sees the blue light, and he immediately starts stepping over the evergreen maze walls to get to where they’re supposed to be. It doesn’t go as gracefully as he’d want it to, because despite being tall he’s still not _that_ tall, and the walls still reach pretty far up. There’s quite a lot of his legs flaying around and quite a lot of almost-tripping and Harry snickering and Louis snapping at him to be quiet.

When they finally, _finally_ reach their destination, Louis lowers himself to his knees and holds out a hand for his friends to safely let them down on the ground again. Liam immediately collapses in the damp grass, completely worn out from the whole thing, and Louis thinks he wouldn’t quite mind doing the same.

At the moment he can’t, though, he’s too tall to lie down without crushing someone or kicking down one of the wall around them. He thinks also, that this was fun, trying the whole big and bad thing. It did give him a sense of power and it did make him feel extremely good about himself.

But, as it is, Louis figures it’s probably just not for him, as he carefully asks Liam for the drink to make him his normal size again. After all, how would he ever be able to do his job if he had to carry around all that extra length? How would he be able to fly if his wings were big enough to plunge down trees?

Liam just grunts, but he holds out the bottle with the unknown liquid, and Louis takes it with much caution. It’s so tiny in his palm he could crush it between his fingers. And that’s not something he wants to do.

He manages after a bit of hard work to get the miniature cap off, and then he’s downing small mouthfuls at a time—he remembers what happened with the cake and he’d rather not turn into an actual pixie with Harry right next to him prepared to make fun of him any chance he gets—and he, a tiny bit wistfully, watches the ground come closer and closer to his normal length. He quickly contemplates stopping when he’s just about half a head taller than Harry, but he actually feels quite uncomfortable having to look down on the head of curls instead of up.

Who needs tallness, anyway. Not Louis, that’s for sure. He doesn’t need to cheat to maintain authority. He’s perfectly fine as he is.

Even if creatures around him seem to have problem understanding that sometimes.

Liam looks just about dead to the world when Louis has finally grown accustomed to being normal sized again, and Louis knows he’s not sleeping, but he doesn’t have the heart to shake him to life just yet. So he tucks the bottle carefully into Liam's pocket where the cake already lies. He must be exhausted. Louis is exhausted.

“So,” Harry starts, small smile tugging on his lips, “how does it feel to be back?”

Louis follows Liam’s example and lies down, letting his muscles relax one by one. There’s a spot between his shoulder blades that’s currently killing him, and he rolls his shoulders a couple of times to ease it up. It works a little.

“Nice, thank you for asking,” he tells him. “Feel kind of bad for giants, if I’m honest. Must be awful being that clumsy all the time.”

“Nah, I just think that’s you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“I will wash your mouth out with soap.”

Usually, Louis thrives off of bickering like this. It’s his number one specialty. But at the moment, he just wants to lie down until his back feels fine again, so he settles for a roll of his eyes and a “Shut up, curly. Get some rest.”

Harry doesn’t protest, but stays quiet, and Louis spreads out in his spot, moving fingers and toes to make sure they’re fully there and rolling his neck to check how tense it is. It’s kind of nice, actually, the silence. They’re far enough away to not even hear the sound of the chaos that’s undoubtedly still going on back by the castle.

It’s pleasant, and it’s quiet, and there’s nothing more really to discuss that comes to Louis’ mind. Which might be why it comes as a surprise to him when Harry finally decides to speak up again.

“Am I…” he starts quietly, tugging hesitantly on his shirt sleeve. “Am I really so bad?”

Louis frowns in confusion.

He means, sure. To think of it, he has been expecting a continuation of what they started before, no doubt, it had been way too heated to just sweep under the rug. He’d even practiced biting comebacks in his head.

What’s unexpected, is Harry’s approach. His calmness, the serenity of his words, is what makes Louis at loss for a good answer. All the ones he’s prepared are too violent and unnecessarily rude if Harry doesn’t provoke them. “I’m… I’m not sure what you want me to say here.”

Harry groans quietly in frustration. “It’s just—fuck, Louis. You’re nice, you’re nice to practically everyone but me, and I don’t know why that bugs me so much, but it _does_. Especially since I’m… Since I’m trying to change here. To make things easier.”

Louis rolls his eyes and sighs. “It’s not _that_ you’re changing Harry, it’s that you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. And then you expect me to just fall at your feet like everyone else because you’re finally acting like _any_ creature with a slightly humane bone in their body already does. And that’s not how it works.”

Harry doesn’t answer, and yeah, okay. Louis scoffs and turns to his side, his back against the spirit. He’d expected at least some kind of discussion here, maybe something that would indicate the tiniest development of Harry’s character, but no. Of course not. He’s despicable as always.

But then there’s a deep voice speaking again, and it’s tentative and low and it makes Louis’ eyes widen.

“I think…” Harry tries. “I think I want to try for the right reasons. Maybe.”

 _Hold the_ fuck _up_.

Louis snaps his head up, rolling over again so he can properly stare at the curly haired boy in severe disbelief. “I… What?”

“I don’t know, I just. I think so.”

“ _Why_?”

“God, I _don’t know_ ,” Harry exclaims, pulling a hand through his hair roughly, letting it slide down to massage his neck. “Forget it. I’m being dumb.”

Oh _hell_ no. Louis sits up again, leaning in towards Harry to show his interest.

“No,” he insists. “I don’t think so. Nuh-uh. Keep going, curly.”

A good thirty seconds pass before Harry finally parts his cherry lips to speak.

“I just… This whole trip, this thing, it’s been. It’s been putting things in a new perspective for me. You know, because like… Mother Gothel, and the Queen of Hearts, and her guards. That’s _me_. That’s my category, I’m a villain. And for my whole life, I’ve been okay with that, because I’ve known no other way. But now I think… Helping people isn’t so bad. And I’d like to think I’m only doing it because I have to, and because I have a point to prove, but… I think I’d be lying.”

Well. Shit. Louis blinks one and two and three times, shaking his head slightly. He’s not sure what to do with this information. He’s not even sure how to process it.

“Alright…” he breathes. “Okay. That’s a good thing. Definitely.”

Harry smiles sadly. “I’m not very good at it, though, am I?”

“At what? Being nice?” Louis frowns.

He receives a dejected nod in return, and _no_. That is not happening. Harry is not allowed to dump all of that game changing content out there in the open just to put himself down immediately after it. He’s not allowed to hug himself, as if he’s trying holding himself together, as if vulnerability makes him think he’s going to break, he’s not allowed to bite his lip as if he’s a lost cause. That’s not a thing that Louis is going to let happen, even if he’d thought of him as hopeless only minutes ago himself. Blame his kind fairy genes, but this is not going down on his watch.

“No. Hey. None of that,” he orders. “That won’t be a problem. I’m here. I’m like, the nicest person you will ever meet. I’ll teach you. Nice Behavior 1.0. Let’s do this.”

Harry looks up with furrowed brows to meet Louis’ eyes, and he’s judging him, Louis can see that. But a smile is teasing his lips and there are amused crinkles by his eyes, and that’s what matters.

“Right,” Louis straightens his back and cracks his knuckles, getting straight into business. “Lesson number one. Complimenting. Simple, but effective. Ninety-nine percent sure to effortlessly put an immediate smile on someone’s face. It doesn’t matter how much you hate a person, you can always find _something_ to compliment. Which I’m going to prove now. Because I’m going to compliment you, and I hate you.”

There are giggles threatening to erupt from Harry by now, and he has to press the back of his hand against his mouth to stifle them. His eyes sparkle, and Louis thinks once again, that he looks like a little child when he’s happy. It’s probably dangerous, because every time his emotions are painting his face in expressions actually suitable for his young face, it urges Louis to like him.

“Louis,” he tries, “I don’t think this is a—“

“Hello, Harry,” Louis interrupts him, pointedly ignoring the weak attempt at a protest. “You have very lovely hair. Your turn.”

This is hardly one of Louis’ brighter ideas, and he knows he’s probably making a fool of himself, but Harry’s plump lips are stretched wide, dimples like craters in his cheeks, and Louis thinks that if he didn’t hate Harry, he would honestly compliment the boy’s smile. When it’s genuine, mind you. Not one of those infuriating smirks.

“You want me to compliment you?” Harry reaffirms, fighting to keep a straight face. Louis allows himself to feel pride at this as he nods back.

“I’m waiting.”

“Alright…” Harry narrows his eyes in thought as his eyes fixes on Louis’ face. “You have… You have pretty ears.”

Louis friendly smile instantly drops of off his face, a seriously unimpressed look replacing it. “I have ‘pretty _ears_ ’?”

“That was a compliment!” Harry insists. “They’re all pointy and cute.”

Louis is _not_ blushing.

“No one wants to hear that their most prominent physical trait is their _ears_ , Harold,” he urges, shaking his head. “I won’t stand for this. Try again.”

“My name is not Harold.”

“I literally cannot hear you over ‘pixie’. Now, _again_.”

“Okay, fine,” Harry rolls his eyes. “God. Didn’t realize we were so picky.”

His face goes concentrated once again as his gaze rakes over Louis’ body, stopping to thoroughly examine his face, and Louis can feel his neck going hot. It’s just, that when Harry _watches_ , he does it in a way Louis’ never seen before. There’s something strangely intense in the way his eyes wander, and it makes Louis’ stomach knot and unknot with heat.

“Okay… You… You have nice eyelashes,” Harry settles for in the end. “I mean, they actually cast shadows on your cheeks when you look down, and I thought that was only a thing in cheesy romantic fiction, so that’s nice.”

So maybe Louis’ face is hot from his neck and up. It’s not inexcusable. In his defense, Louis had been prepared for something obvious and effortless, like his eyes, or smile. Not something so… Subtle. Not something that witnessed of Harry genuinely _looking_ , and looking closely. And it seems oddly sincere, as well. Louis is not at fault for going a few shades redder.

It’s not the best of compliments anyway, Louis judges. Definitely in need of some polishing. Not casual enough. Clumsily delivered. But, in the end of it, Harry does manage to make Louis blush, so Louis lets it slide.

“See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Harry shrugs, smiling crookedly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You should be thankful, I usually charge these lessons per minute. Next time we’ll go through the full and correct usage of polite phrases, since I’ve noticed you do have quite a problem with those. I’m expecting splendid results or the deal’s over.”

“Nice,” Harry quips, smile instantly fading from Louis’ slight jab at him. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea Louis’ ever had. “Tell me, do ‘polite phrases’ include apologizing? Because I don’t think you’re qualified for that yet.”

Louis’ spine stiffens and the kind glint of his eyes turns cold within mere seconds. Why can’t Harry let them have nice things, honestly? Does he have to ruin things even when he’s meant to improve?

So, like, okay, maybe he shouldn’t have phrased things the way he did, either. But Harry’s just being plain rude.

“Ah. Thanks for reminding me why I hate you,” he replies through his teeth.

“Aw, you needed a reminder?”

Louis reaches out and slaps Harry’s upper arm, and then raises to go to Liam. “You’ve got a long way to go, Styles.”

“You know,” Harry says, rubbing his arm. “For a nice person, you’re quite rude.”

Louis starts shaking Liam as violently as he can, completely ignoring Harry’s comment. “Liam, love, we should get going. Harry’s being mean.”

(Liam has to hide a smile the entire time they’re getting ready to go through the next portal, having heard every single word that’s been said between his friends. Despite the small bicker at the end of their conversation, Harry and Louis don’t go any further than that, and when they finally stand to go through the portal, they don’t bother with making Liam stand in the middle so they can avoid physical contact.

Now this is actual improvement.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh it's here!! and it's late and i'm sorry, but it's been a busy period with personal stuff, and then with the rewriting, and then with the fandom drama like???? heLP
> 
> anywayyyyys. i'm excited to write the following chapters bc dynamics and relation developments are my literal fav and this is where that shit finally truly kicks in yayy :D
> 
> as always, thank you very, very much for reading/commenting/leaving kudos. it makes me so happy every single time it happens and you're all so incredibly nice it makes my heart throb. xxx next update hopefully in about a week.
> 
> (my tumblr is still a-bit-extraordilarry talk to me i will love you forever)


	11. chapter 9; pantheon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Majestic, white, ancient.

That’s the first three adjectives coming to Louis’ mind when he opens his eyes to the next world. It’s not like anything he’s seen so far. It’s the blatant opposite of Wonderland—everything here is thoroughly and thoughtfully constructed, marking every corner and way with massive marble poles, reaching up and up and into the sky. You can’t see them end, and Louis wonders if they ever do.

The few houses they can catch a glimpse of don’t even look like houses. It reminds Louis of tiny churches, chapels, all white with detailed handwork engraved on porches and roofs.

“So,” Harry starts, blinking a couple of times to get used to all the white. “This isn’t the Underworld, it’s too bright. And it isn’t Olympus. It’s not Earth, I’m guessing it’s nothing of the Norse, either, because this environment is too similar to the Greek.”

Louis is about to ask him what his conclusion is, but there’s a sudden, joyful, and very unfamiliar voice behind them answering in his place.

“Yeah, you’re in Pantheon.”

Liam flinches so hard he almost knocks Harry over, Harry inhales sharply, and Louis flies a fair bit over their heads, all three turning with the speed of light to find out what creature has found them.

The guy standing before them is blond, short, and most remarkably, the happiest creature Louis has ever seen in his entire life. He’s actually positive he hasn’t ever seen a smile that unapologetically wide before; not even on himself. And that sure is something. Two small, feathery and white wings are poking out from his back, and Louis almost want to reach out and touch them because they look so soft.

“Hello boys!” the new guy greets them cheerily, letting his eyes scan the three creatures before him quickly. “I’m Niall. And none of you are from here, are you?”

Liam clears his throat, taking it upon himself to explain the situation. Which is good, because he seems to be the one to recover from the surprise first. “Um. No. Not really. We actually, we have no idea where we are, so if you could—“

But he doesn’t get to finish his request.

In the time he’s stepped forward, opened his mouth and started talking, the new boy has managed to completely drop his dumbly enthusiastic smile and shoot up to him until they’re only inches apart. He presses a pale finger to Liam’s lips, effectively silencing him.

Now, this is getting a little bit weird.

“You are _Liam_ ,” Niall declares, and he seems almost wonderstruck at first. Louis watches as an amazed kind of haze swoops over the boy’s features, to then again be replaced with the giddy, overly excited smile he’d had on before, and he backs away from Liam’s space.

“You, the Red Queen, this guy,” Harry whispers to Louis. “What exactly is this fixation with Liam?”

Louis stops a loud snort from erupting in the last minute, and settles for a faint smile and a roll of his eyes. “He’s adorable, Harry, that’s what. Likeable. You wouldn’t be familiar with the phrase.”

He gets a scoff in response, but Louis sees the slight deepening of Harry’s left dimple, and Louis can’t stop the corners of his own mouth to perk a tiny little bit upwards.

(This is weird. They’re not supposed to smile. This is a harsh exchange of words. What is going on. Louis doesn’t know.)

Liam just kind of stands there, swaying uncomfortably back and forth on his toes to his heels, and he awkwardly scratches his nose, the words he was going to say before Niall’s interruption completely forgotten in his fluster. “Um. Yeah. That’s me.”

Niall’s beam could light up an entire universe, and he enthusiastically grabs Liam’s hand to shake it so violently Louis nearly fears for the safety of Liam’s wrist. “I can’t believe I get to finally meet you!”

Liam just nods, looking at Niall as if he’s a confusing clue he has no idea how to figure out. “Right. Um.”

Niall’s smile doesn’t fade one bit as he nods approvingly at Liam’s blush, and he then proceeds to look over Liam’s shoulder, searching for something, or someone, else. Which is kind of strange, because they’re alone. It’s just the four of them, and he’s obviously not that interested in neither Harry nor Louis at the moment.

“So,” he begins, as a shadow of a confused crinkle forms between his eyes. “Where is your match?”

They have just left Wonderland, Louis thinks. They have just left a world where the words absurdity and irrationality is key to the way of living, they’ve left the world where play cards are alive and cotton candy grows on trees and hares have tea parties with hatters.

They have just left Wonderland, so Liam’s facial expressions for confusion should’ve reached its official peak. It’s shouldn’t be physically possible to become more confused by something than the things they’ve seen in Wonderland.

But right here, in this moment, Liam manages to do just that.

“My…” he starts, tilting his head questioningly, “… match?”

The corners of Niall’s mouth are visibly dropping by the minute, settling into something increasingly distressed.

“Your _match_ ,” he repeats. “My boy. The one I’m meant to pair you up with. Your soulmate. Spouse. Significant other.”

“Um,” Liam scratches his neck uncomfortably, “no such luck, mate. I’m sorry?”

Judging by the way Niall’s face completely drops, Liam very well should be sorry.

“But—that doesn’t make any sense! You were going to meet—you _were_ going to meet! In Wonderland! We made _sure_ of it!”

The blond lad stares at Liam with a throttled expression, his hands reached out in a helpless gesture. Liam begins to merely shake his head apologetically, but then, at the exact same second, it dawns on the trio just exactly what Niall said.

“Now hold on a second—“ Harry tries skeptically.

“Who _are_ you?” Louis demands furiously.

“Who was I going to meet?” Liam breathes doubtfully.

Niall doesn’t listen to any of them.

“So,” he inhales and exhales deeply, pressing his palms tightly together. “You mean… to tell me,” he starts walking around in a messy circle, “that Freyja and I… That we’ve literally been given this _impossible_ mission, right, that we’re meant to pair up _two humans from different worlds—_ which is against our laws, I might add, since humans on Earth aren’t allowed to know about our fucking existence.“

He makes a pause to give each and every one of them a pointed glare each to emphasize the gravity of his words, before continuing. “You’re honestly telling me that we’ve been forced to cooperate, desperately searching far and wide for a way to possibly get you to meet for _years_ … That we’ve worked our asses off, despite it being _forbidden_ , to at last move Zayn to Wonderland for one night, just so you could _finally_ get it the fuck on… And you just _don’t_?”

Niall finishes off with an enraged expression aimed directly at Liam. Liam looks just as dazed as Niall looks frustrated.

“Zayn?” he breathes. “Is that… I—what?”

Niall throws his hands in the air, hopelessly slumping down to sit on the ground, rubbing his hands up and down across his face. “I fucking hate this job.”

As interested as Louis is in the existence of Liam’s soulmate—how’s that for naïve, Harry?—there are still more urgent topics to discuss at this moment.

“Mate,” he declares, earning two blue eyes on him. They’re almost bluer than his own, he states with certain displeasure. _Almost_ bluer, he assures himself before snapping back to the situation at hand. “What _are_ you?”

Niall bites the inside of his cheek and sighs. “I’m a cupid. I make people fall in love for a living. Or should I say, I try my very damn best. And fail, apparently.”

Louis’ eyes widens. A cupid.

A _cupid_.

This is the best moment of his life so far. He has so many questions. So many _questions_. And he’s finally going to get an answer to every single one of them, this is absolutely _brilliant—_

Liam doesn’t seem quite as impressed yet, frowning in concern. “What happened to—to Zayn? Is he alright, have you gotten him back to Earth yet?”

Niall groans. “No. We thought you two would actually _meet_ , and then he’d come with you. This is fucking unbelievable, I swear—“ he sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’ll be alright, though. I’ll get in touch with Freyja, we’ll… She’ll get him out, pass it off as a dream to him or something. Whatever. There will be other opportunities. Hopefully.”

A silence is sinking in between the four of them for a while, no one really sure what to say. Louis notices that as soon as the word ‘cupid’ had left Niall’s lips, Harry had gone completely stiff by Louis’ side, and he hasn’t relaxed since. He doesn’t understand it at first, but then he figures it makes sense that the spirit of pain would be uncomfortable in the presence of a creature of love.

Liam is the one who speaks up, frowning and anxiously biting on his thumbnail after several minutes in deep thought.

“There was… A boy,” he starts tentatively, earning three pairs of eyes on him. “In the labyrinth, when we were running from the guards. And he looked terribly lost and out of place, and I wanted to take him with us, but—“ Niall’s stare intensifies, and Liam looks down, a faint shade of pink coloring his cheeks. “We didn’t have the time.”

“Was this boy possibly… Dark haired? Brown eyes, lean figure, face as if sculpted by Venus?” Niall questions lightly.

Liam just nods.

“That would be your boy,” Niall confirms. “So you mean to tell me you were actually _that close_?” He receives another still nod, and groans. “What went _wrong_?”

Louis stomach knots as it dawns upon him that he and Harry is what went wrong. Harry is the one who didn’t think they’d have the time, Louis is the one who decided to rile Harry up about it—not that he realized things would blow up like he did, but still—and then after that, they just couldn’t keep calm. Again. It’s actually fucking _ridiculous_ , how that’s where they always end up, in each other’s faces out of bottomless rage. It’s like they don’t even know how to control it, with the way it always builds up. Louis doesn’t know what to do about it, but he promises from now on he will genuinely make a solid effort to keep away from the fighting. If anything, for Liam’s sake.

To make Louis feel even worse, Liam just shrugs and responds;

“We just didn’t have the time, really. There’s nothing we could’ve done about it.”

Louis hates himself and he decides he will start working on his irrational fear of apologies immediately just so he can one day hug Liam for an hour straight under declared confessions of regret.

When he briefly throws a glance at Harry just to see if this is bothering him as well even the slightest, he’s a little surprised and a little relieved when he catches the tall boy looking down on his shoes with a frown on his face. It’s nice to know Louis is actually not alone in bearing this burden. They have, after all, just interfered with true love.

Niall doesn’t seem to notice either of the two’s guilty expressions, as he just keeps his gaze on Liam, sighing wistfully.

“Well, then,” he states. “I’ve already broken a rule with telling you about your mate, and I feel kind of bad about ruining it for you, so I’d be more than happy to make it up to you. If you want, you’re very welcome to stay here until the portals are fixed. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Louis sighs in relief at that. It’s been way too dangerous this far, and Pantheon seems nice enough for finally settling a longer time. He’s just about to answer with a thank you and a yes, but Harry is there way before him.

“That’s awfully nice of you, but we need to keep going.”

 _What_? No, they don’t.

“No, we don’t,” Louis frowns.

“Yes, we do.” Harry gives Louis a pointed look. “We agreed on making this an adventure, didn’t we?”

He earns a snort from the fairy. “That deal was off the second I realized you only made it for your own benefits. I only left with you because Liam wanted to leave, and look where it got us. We were almost decapitated. It’s too dangerous. This place seems nice enough.”

“We can’t stay here.” Harry looks pressed, speaking lowly and controlled, warily looking around him.

Louis’ narrows his eyes as he watches Harry’s clearly uncomfortable body language. “Is it because you’re powerless again? Literally why would you even need your powers in this place?”

“It is not because of the powers,” Harry snaps. “It’s because this place is the Roman equivalent of Olympus while I come from Tartaros and I’m fucking uncomfortable.”

“Oh.”

Louis can’t really come up with anything else to say, and he looks down on his hands, admittedly a little bit ashamed. That is actually understandable, that Harry would feel uncomfortable here. Just like Louis would feel uncomfortable in any part of the Underworld. Louis hates it when Harry’s feelings are rational. It makes it so much more difficult to dislike him.

“Besides, I’m not powerless here,” Harry mutters. “This place serves Earth and so do I.”

That’s right. Just keep pouring salt into those wounds.

Niall’s awkward clearing of his throat snaps them both out of it. His spine has stiffened remarkably since Harry let the name ‘Tartaros’ fall off of his tongue, and he swallows, eyeing the pair carefully before speaking up.

“We should probably sit down and have a proper chat,” he suggests.

He earns an agreeing grunt from Liam, Harry and Louis in return.

 

~

 

Niall takes them to a lovely little chapel a bit further away, and Louis gets the opportunity to fully admire his surroundings. It’s so _clean_ , Pantheon, so white and polished and carefully designed. Louis feels a deep respect for the people who work with keeping it this way, after all he knows what that’s like. Keeping the environment nice and fresh takes effort and time.

The chapel is exquisite and thoroughly detailed, with carved patterns into the walls and, also here, pretty paintings on the ceiling portraying what Louis guesses are the other Gods and Goddesses of Pantheon. The scarily well-made marble statues by the entrance depicts Niall, together with a beautiful woman and a few other attractive men. Niall’s family, Louis figures. The other creatures of the Roman who are assigned love.

“So,” Niall concludes, sitting down in a pile of cloud soft pillows and motioning for Louis, Harry and Liam to do the same. “Let’s take a round to properly introduce ourselves, yes? I need to know what I’ve gotten myself into here. I’d like a name, an origin, and what you are assigned. Go, start with the little one.”

Louis looks up, affronted, when he realizes Niall is pointing at him. Harry lets out a stifled chuckle next to him, and Louis has to breathe deeply to maintain his calm. He is above everyone, and especially being affected by such an ignorant nickname.

“I’m Louis,” he starts, and he can’t help but send a sharp glare Niall’s way. Just a tiny one. A tiny, harmless glare to put him in his place. Nailed it. “I’m from the Enchanted Forest of Grimm. I’m a nature fairy and I am tall for my kind, thank you very much.”

Great, now he sounds like a grumpy child. This whole not getting affected thing is probably something Louis should work on. Maybe.

“It’s alright, Louis, I get it,” Niall assures and claps a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Us short fellas got to stick together, mate, it’s all good. Sorry if I offended you.”

A spark of remembrance flashes through Louis at those words, and his chest stings a little when he remembers Stan saying almost that exact thing when they first met. Stan, who Louis still doesn’t know where he went. Stan, who could be in terrible, terrible danger for all Louis knows. He realizes that in the rush of recent events, he’s been completely forgetting about his friend, and he feels sick thinking about it now. There has been so many other things going on, Louis hasn’t been able to process it properly, but sitting there hearing those exact words now, it just smashes into him like a tsunami wave.

“Louis?”

Harry’s voice snaps him out of his condition, and Louis blinks a couple of times, whipping his head around to trace everyone’s faces. This is now, he reminds himself. He has other things to concentrate on.

But now that the thought has officially taken root in Louis’ mind, he can’t get it out, because now he _knows_. He knows how dangerous things could get, and there’s only one of Stan. Stan doesn’t have anyone to help him.

“Louis, are you okay?” This time it’s Niall asking, looking frowningly at Louis and ever so slightly throwing attentive glances to the head of curls by Louis’ side. Why, Louis doesn’t know, but he gives himself a mental kick in the shin and tells himself to get himself together. He can save worrying for later.

“Yeah,” he utters. It’s way too frail and quiet for his liking, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry. Got lost in thought, I did. Tends to happen. Now, we were doing introductions, weren’t we?”

Niall raises his eyebrows with concern, but decides to let it go.

“Right,” he nods. “Right, curly guy. Your turn.”

Harry lets a sigh fall off his lips. “I feel like I’m at a group therapy meeting.”

“Would you like it to be?” Niall looks bizarrely serious. “I’m a very good listener if there’s something you’d like to open up about. I know pretty well how to deal with that shit.”

Harry gives him a seriously disbelieving look. “I’m Harry Styles,” he speaks slowly, not letting Niall’s eyes go. “I’m from Tartaros. I’m a spirit of pain.”

The helpful widening of Niall’s eyes change into something alarmed, and then he whistles. “ _Shit_ , mate. From what I’ve heard you could probably do well with some psychological guidance.”

Louis would be laughing his ass off at the frankly horrified look on Harry’s pretty face, if it wouldn’t be for one, Niall actually sounds incredibly serious, and two, Louis is pretty sure that seriousness is justified. The two times Louis has dared to bring up anything about Harry’s background, the spirit’s either attacked him or looked ready to cry. It’s clearly a sensitive subject.

“Thanks,” Harry says, weighing heavily on the syllable to underline he’s really not grateful at all, “but I’ll respectfully decline.”

Niall blushes. “Sorry. I just— _man_. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve foreseen a hurtful fall of a relationship and felt so sorry for the creature who had to deal with that part. Not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. You’re probably ace, with all that training, I mean—“

“Is it like, a thing?” Harry mutters to Louis. “That short people need to make up for their height in amount of words per minute or something?”

“Yes,” Louis deadpans. “It’s an extreme competition, very merciless. I’m in the lead.”

Harry hums thoughtfully. “I’m not surprised.”

Louis can see the tiniest of smiles pulling at the spirit’s lips, though, and his shoulders looks visibly less tense.

 _Did I do that_? a small, insignificant voice in the very back of Louis’ mind wonders. _Did I do that? Why did I do that? Is this a good thing? Why does it feel like a good thing?_

Niall bites his lip, silent the second Harry had opened his mouth to speak to Louis. He lets his eyes wander between them, _again_ , and then he raises his eyebrows quickly to himself before starting again.

“Anyway. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude or anything, it’s just—I’m so curious. Because you’re a son of Eris, aren’t you?”

The upwards curve of Harry’s lips Louis’ been able to bring out slowly smoothens out again. “Yes.”

“Everyone’s saying she’s the one who did this to the portals.”

“She’s not.”

“Oh.” Niall quietens, looking down on his hands for a second before looking up. “I’m sorry if that was offensive or anything. We’re just trying to make sense of it all, still.”

“It’s okay,” Harry shrugs. “I get why you’d make the connection, like… I guess you’re not completely wrong. But she’s not the one who shut it all down.”

Liam’s eyes narrow slightly in thought at Harry’s vague confession. “Harry… How much do you _know_?”

It’s quiet for a while. Harry looks extremely uncomfortable with three speculating pairs of eyes on him at the same time, and he scratches his neck and looks down on his lap.

“Not as much as you want me to. Trust me.”

God, this is so _awkward_. Niall is still eyeing Harry up and down, his pale blue gaze intense and a tiny bit confused, and no one’s saying anything. Louis desperately want to take Niall’s side and demand a further explanation, but he can’t find it in him to put Harry’s position even more out there when he’s already so visibly unwilling to carry on this conversation.

Maybe later. He’ll ask him later. Nicely, even. Louis will be gentle and understanding and reliable.

At this moment, though, an unexpected wave of something very close to _protectiveness_ washes over him at the sight of the usually so confident Harry Styles insecurely fidgeting with the hem of his black t-shirt, so he clears his throat loudly and excessively to take away the attentive gazes from Harry.

“Well. Aren’t we curious today,” he says lightly with a warning glance at Liam and Niall, hoping they’re getting the sincere message of _back off_ he’s trying to convey. “If I’d known we were supposed to talk about our roots so thoroughly I’d have told you all about it. I’ve got quite the collection of stories.”

It does have immediate effect, his words, as Liam snaps his head away from Harry and down on his lap bashfully, and Niall closes his mouth shut to purse his lips. The only thing that Louis doesn’t really understand with their reaction, is the growing smirk on Niall’s childlike face. It’s terribly out of place, Louis decides.

“You’re right,” Niall nods. “It’s none of our business. I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

He at least has the decency to sound sincere, so Louis lets his guard down carefully, deconstructs the wall he didn’t even realized he’s built up the second Harry shrunk to something smaller than he is.

Louis decides to put all of this perplexing content in a small compartment in the back of his buzzing brain to deal with later.

“Liam,” Niall continues, brushing the last couple of minutes off like they’d never happened. “Now, we know your name and your origin, but is there something else we should know?”

“Um. Well,” Liam frowns, tilting his head. “Do you already know I’m a shape shifter?”

“I did not,” Niall replies, and for a moment Louis thinks he’s going to have another fit of frustration, but luckily, Niall remains perfectly calm. “I can’t believe Freyja didn’t tell me that part, though. I feel incredibly betrayed.”

Silence falls over the four of them once again, this time aimed at Niall who seems to be a little lost in thought for a moment.

“So,” he begins slowly. “Do you still want to leave?”

This time, Louis looks to Harry before answering. “Are you sure we’re not staying?”

He doesn’t receive a proper answer, but only a small nod to insinuate Harry’s answer. Louis settles for that, and turns to Liam.

“Do you want to keep going, as well?”

Liam considers it for a moment.

“Yes,” he decides. “If there’s even the slightest chance that we end up on Earth… I’ll gladly take it.”

Well, then. It seems like Louis has to admit defeat. Again. Niall claps his hands together in a determined manner.

“Obviously I’m coming with,” he states as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m too involved now, and since I’ve already broken rules I might as well do it properly.”

He stands up, pulling Liam and Louis with him by the hands, Harry following instantly. “We’re going to be a nice little family,” he beams, pulling them all in closely.

Louis suddenly finds himself with Harry’s side pressed up against his own. He’d like to stay indifferent to it, but the touch is burning into Louis’ own skin, positively leaving marks where their arms line up, and the fire lingers as Niall finally releases his grip.

Both Harry and Louis recoils as quickly as they can, Louis making an attempt to rub the flesh on his bicep subtly, putting the fire out, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. He can see Harry glancing at him from the corner of his eye, though, so he’s probably hoping in vain.

Niall seems to have gotten a new shot of cureless enthusiasm at these new plans, grinning and waving for the other three to follow him out. He tells them that their best shot at getting out of here is through his mother’s portal in her own chapel. It’s most definitely going to take some persuasion, though, as she’s flat out refusing to use it at the moment, and so are every other God and creature. Niall still thinks they could have a good shot, though, if he gets a chance to explain their situation.

“Oh, and since we’re going to spend a lot of time with each other from now on, I should probably give you a heads up,” Niall adds thoughtfully. “My presence tends to have certain… Effects on other creatures.”

Louis frowns. “Effects?”

“Basically, if you suddenly have an overwhelming urge to jump each other’s bones, it’s probably my fault and I’m sorry. It’s not on purpose.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

Niall stops to give Louis a look of disbelief, gaze shifting to Harry as to confirm Louis’ not joking.

Harry pets Louis’ shoulder. “He means to fuck, pixie. Shag. Engage in sexual intercourse.”

 _Oh_.

“God, alright,” Louis flushes, looking down on his feet to hide his blossoming cheeks. His equally colored ears are probably giving away, though. Fairies just had to be blessed with ears impossible to ever cover up. It won’t matter how puffy Louis makes his hair; they’ll still be there, making themselves very well-known. “I get it. No worries, that won’t _ever_ happen.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “As far as my interpretations go, Louis is a bit… unexperienced, if you will,” he explains to Niall. “I don’t think he’s even seen his own dick up-close.”

The remark earns a sharp inhale from Louis, who gives Harry an appalled glare and stomps on Harry’s foot as hard as he can, frantically trying to contain his unfortunate tendency to blush as soon as things get unfamiliar and discomforting.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he continues emphatically. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

Harry is barely even bothered by the stomp, seeing as he’s wearing shoes—they are these pretentious black boots that Louis immediately decides to dislike, but he does shut up at least, so Louis got what he wanted.

He scans his mind after a subject, a question to ask Niall, and issue they might have about getting away, something he’s been wondering during their conversation, something like—

Louis widens his eyes as he realizes.

Stan is from the Roman. Pantheon belongs to the Roman. Maybe, maybe possibly, there’s a tiny chance that—

“Niall,” Louis says, tone rushed and breathy. “I have a friend. He’s from here, he’s a faun. He, um, he went home through a portal only days before the announcement that they’re broken came. And I have no idea what happened to him, if he got here before the portals broke or if he’s just as lost as we are… Is there a way I can find out before we leave here?”

He looks at Niall with wide, pleading eyes, crossing both fingers and toes that there is a way. He just really wants to know what’s happened to the first friend he made at UoT, if there’s a chance he’s actually okay. It would definitely make things easier for Louis.

Niall looks hesitant, and Louis’ heart drops a little, half awaiting an apology and a denial.

“I don’t know…” the cupid starts, licking his lips pensively. “I think… You could always ask Faunus. He ought to know if there’s anyone of his hoard missing.”

“Where can I find him?” Louis asks instantly, just barely letting Niall finish his sentence. There’s something bright seeping into his veins now, and he thinks it’s hope, and he would do anything to get to keep it for a while.

“I could take you there.” Niall can’t help but break into a smile, mimicking the one on Louis’ face. “It’s quite the walk, but if you’re sure…”

“Completely sure.” Louis nods vigorously. “Take me there. Please,” he adds, because he doesn’t want to sound rude when Niall’s making this kind and generous offer.

He turns to Harry and Liam with fervently raised eyebrows. “You’re coming with, right? Or, you don’t have to. But it’d be nice.”

A part of him wants to specifically exclude Harry from the question, just to see his eyebrows knit together in annoyance, but he remembers what he promised about improvement earlier and he’s dead set on keeping it.

There’s a hum of agreement from the two, and Louis claps his hands giddily. He makes sure to express his uttermost gratitude towards Niall as they start walking.

 

~

 

Louis is confused. He is very, very, very confused.

He knows it’s Niall’s fault. He knows Niall warned him about this literal thing, but Louis had been so sure it would just not even pass the first state of possible attraction he hadn’t even paid it further attention.

Some might argue Louis has already passed the first step a long time ago. Louis would argue back that you’d be stupid if you didn’t find Harry at least a little bit attractive, so that teeny tiny fragment of aesthetic appreciation doesn’t count. It doesn’t mean he wants to kiss his face.

Or, it doesn’t usually mean he wants to kiss Harry’s face. Hence Louis’ total confusion, because now apparently, it _does_.

It’s like—it’s like, Louis can barely even look at Harry for more than five seconds because his face is so radiantly beautiful it’s _blinding_. He sneaks a look on Harry’s torso and he wants to wrap his arms around it because he bets it’d feel safe. He peeks on Harry’s hair and he wants to comb his fingers through it, because it’s the softest looking mop of hair Louis’ ever seen. He glances on Harry’s hands and wants to feel them run down his back, because he’s positive they would be warm and send shivers down his spine.

And this is one hundred percent not okay. Louis’ thought up until now that he’d be able to oppose the possible surges of attraction that may come his way, but he is absolutely _not_ , and it’s not alright with him. His blood is pumping anxiously through his small body, every inch of him wanting to reach out and graze his fingertips against the dip of Harry’s collarbone, or the small patch of soft skin under his belly button that becomes visible every time his t-shirt rides up a little too high.

Louis’ complete cluelessness is justified. He is, after all, dead set on hating this guy at all other times, and now all of a sudden he can’t even _look_ at Harry out of fear of losing self-control and attack him with kisses. His fingers are itching, and he begs them to stop.

Maybe Harry can feel it, too, because he’s awfully quiet as well. He’s not initiating any kind of conversation, and neither is Louis, and the two of them are not even lowly bickering like they normally would, so there’s an unfamiliar silence falling over the four boys now.

When they finally reach the beginning of a path that’s less plain white and more hinting at the green forests Louis is used to, plants clinging on to the poles lined up to show the way and small specks of flowers poking through the stone cold ground, they stop walking. It’s very pretty, Louis thinks, it’s really very pretty. He would probably be able to appreciate it even more if his mind wasn’t so persistent on fawning over Harry’s appearance.

“Alright,” Louis speaks when no one else seems to. “Should we keep going then?”

He starts moving his bare feet again, and Harry and Liam are just about to join a few steps behind, when they’re stopped once more, and a lot more determinedly this time.

“ _No_ ,” Niall rushes suddenly, stopping them all in their tracks. “Wait. All of us can’t go in there. There’s, uh, there’s a rule. That you can only go two at a time.”

“Alright,” Louis frowns. He decides not to question it. “Um, so I guess you and I should be—“

“Me? No!” Niall cuts Louis off. “No, I can’t go in there… I reckon you just take Harry and things will be okay.”

“ _What_?” Harry and Louis stops to mutually protest over this suggestion. It makes no sense, Louis thinks, and he’d rather have the Roman creature with him, someone who’d know what to do if something’d go wrong. Not to mention that he’d love to get away from Harry at the moment, so that he could finally get some release from this terrible condition.

Niall doesn’t seem to understand this, though, dismissing every single objecting sentence leaving the pair’s lips. “Stop being silly. You just tell him I sent you, and things will be okay. Hopefully.”

The addition at the end makes Louis’ and Harry’s faces drop, and Niall can see another wave of protests threatening to break through, so he rushes them forward onto the path, causing them to stumble a little and give him an irritated glare each.

“You will be fine,” Niall promises one last time, waving exaggeratedly as they finally start walking. “We’ll be waiting here!”

 

~

 

The minute Louis and Harry are out of earshot, Niall turns violently to Liam, gripping his arms to keep him still as he engages them in the most intense eye contact Liam’s ever experienced in his life.

“Shit, Liam,” he squeaks, “you have got to help me the _fuck_ out with those two.”

At first Liam is so taken aback by the sudden closeness of the cupid, that he just stands there completely dumbstruck, but as the words sink in, his facial expression turns into one of utter incredulity.

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he’s not entirely stupid. Niall the Cupid just asked for help regarding two people together. Which brings Liam to believe that maybe he’s just interpreting things the wrong way, or Niall might be the one who needs to get his head in check.

“I _mean_ ,” Niall hisses, “that those two idiots have so much unresolved sexual tension between them and nothing is being done about it. How can you _live_ with this? I can hardly _breathe_ because the air around them is so thick!”

There is quite a lot of tension between Harry and Louis. It’s the sexual part that has Liam in skepticism.

“Niall,” he tries to reason calmly, “they hate each other. That’s just how they are.”

Niall refuses to listen, though, shaking his head violently.

“Compatibility,” he enunciates, “is a tricky thing. So are love and hatred. Sometimes emotions become so strong when you find a compatible creature, that your body just don’t know how to handle them. And that’s when you confuse the two. There is a thin, _thin_ line separating them and the _only_ thing preventing your friends from boning each other in a corner is that all their energy and emotions are focusing on the _wrong aspects_.”

Liam wants to tell Niall that this is all insane and wrong, but he also reminds himself that this is Niall’s job. Niall is the expert here. Niall deals with this kind of stuff every single day.

Niall must know what he’s talking about, and it all seems so wrong to Liam, but at the same time, maybe it makes more sense than anything he’s been told since this journey started.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Niall agrees.

“Are you completely sure about this?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what kind of relation they have to one another since you all got here. But it wasn’t until, first of all, Harry’s looks of concern, second of all, when Louis got protective and defended Harry, and third of all, they completely fell for my lie, that I could be entirely sure.”

Yeah, Liam thinks, the defending thing was actually kind of revealing to think of it, and then— _hold on_.

“Lie? What lie?” Liam demands.

“The lie where I told them my presence has an effect on people when in reality it doesn’t do shit unless I choose it to. And I haven’t chosen it to. I wanted to see whether that would release some kind of feelings now that they _think_ they can’t hold them back. And the energy between them has been a very different kind of strained this whole walk. It’s _suffocating_.”

Oh god. Liam is not nearly prepared for this shit. He shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head erratically, trying to make sense of it all.

He has to admit, that this could be a good explanation for the moments of weakness he’s witnessed between Harry and Louis sometimes. The times where they seem to forget they hate each other for a few seconds.

Still, it doesn’t explain everything.

“Niall,” he tries helplessly. “You haven’t seen them _fight_. That can’t be all there is to it, I—I can’t imagine that energy ever focusing on the _right_ aspects long enough for a romantic relationship.”

“You can’t see that _right now_ ,” Niall corrects him effortlessly. “I’m not only coming with you because of the joy of your company and the possibility of meeting your match, Liam. Be patient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this is like 95% dialogue i'm sorry
> 
> um so i finished this at like 5.40am. there hasn't been enough time to edit it, which i will take care of later so i hope it worked atm :). i just wanted another chapter up now bc i'm going away again, we're visiting family and friends in the north of sweden and i'll be gone for i think ten days. i will try to write while i'm gone but there won't be another update until at least august 7th. 
> 
> but hey. niall is officially in the game yayy :D 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading/leaving kudos/commenting bc it absolutely makes my day and if you ever want to talk or just feel like dropping a single message or just anything rly u can always find me @ a-bit-extraordilarry.tumblr.com xxxx


	12. chapter 10; pantheon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Louis focuses on putting one foot in front of the other at a good pace, looking at the contrast of his tanned feet against the white, cold marble beneath him. The pale solidity is slowly fading into something greener, softer, more colorful, and a distinct fog making it impossible to see how far away their destination actually is. Louis’ mind calms down a little bit more with every step. Green calms him down more than anything else. Nature is peaceful, and Louis lets this lull him into a false— _very_ false—sense of control. After all, he needs as much of that as he can get, with Harry walking only inches next to him. Louis can feel the electricity threading and sparking in the small space between their arms.

“Thank you, by the way.”

Harry’s tentative voice is what finally breaks through the thickness of the charged silence. Louis furrows his brow.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He’s answered with a quiet snort, and Harry kicks a few leaves lying astray on the ground out of the way, to not have to meet Louis’ piercing eyes.

“I mean, for… You know. Changing the subject back there. I—I’m really thankful you did that and I thought I’d let you know.”

Louis wants to stop them and give him a huge smile. And a hug, maybe. Maybe examine what his lips taste like, if they taste as much like cherries as they look.

He doesn’t do any of that, though. The moment the last word drops off of Harry’s tongue, Louis’ hostile reflexes immediately kicks in with force, and he blurts out;

“It wasn’t for you, but sure.”

If feels wrong before he’s even finished it.

Louis isn’t sure if it’s the way Harry’s hesitant smile drops, or just the fact that Harry had tried being genuinely nice and Louis just coldly shut him down, that makes the words taste so ugly in his mouth. Here Harry is, following Louis’ advice on trying to be nice. Trying to be polite. And Louis turns insensitive and, quite frankly, bitchy. He can’t stand for this. He feels _bad_. Louis did actually do it for Harry, after all. Even if he hates to admit it.

Harry bites his lips loosely—Louis is _not_ distracted—and shoves his hands in his pockets as he quickly tries to come up with a way to brush the whole thing off.

“I _know_ , but—but I still—“

“I totally lied,” Louis interrupts. “It was for your sake. And I’m glad I could help.”

At first Louis almost regrets telling the truth, thinking Harry would go all arrogant on him, but his doubts are washed away when Harry’s face lights up by a smile that shows off all of his white teeth, and he tries to tuck his chin in to hide it.

“Really?”

Shouldn’t Niall’s effect be wearing off by now? They’ve been walking for quite a while, so there should be a fair amount of distance between them, but Louis still wants to pinch Harry’s cheeks and tug at his locks. Maybe it doesn’t truly disappear until you leave Pantheon or something. Either way it can’t be healthy.

“Don’t get cocky, Styles. It’s not attractive.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “You’re a liar.”

Yeah, he kind of is. “I am not.”

“Everything I do is attractive.”

“Modesty, I personally think is the most attractive trait.”

“Well. Since opposites attract, I guess that would make sense.”

“You calling me big-headed?”

“Kind of, yeah. But I’ve sort of learned that so am I.”

“Congratulations,” Louis meets his eyes. “At least we’re big-headed together, then.”

Wow. That… Doesn’t at all sound like Louis finds Harry repulsive. It actually suggests the complete opposite, and Louis can see that the spirit notices that as well, because something new and curious awakens in the jade of his eyes, and he tilts his head to the side, giving Louis a proper look.

“Great,” Harry answers, happily smirking along, testing the waters. “I have been searching for big-headed creatures to keep me company for quite some time, now.”

Louis snorts. “Judging by your group of friends back at the university, you succeeded long ago.”

“They’re actually not as sure of themselves as you may think. If they were, they wouldn’t let me call the shots on everything.”

“Oh, so there’s like a test?”

“There is. You’ve definitely passed it.”

“I am flattered,” Louis puts a hand on his heart. “I knew my self-love would take me places one day.”

“Me too,” Harry grins.

Is this some kind of weird… _flirting_? Are they _flirting_ right now? Is this actually happening? When Louis had sworn to try and tone down the fighting back there, this is _not_ what he’d had in mind to replace it.

Louis shakes his head and blames Niall.

With those two simple words— _me, too_ —echoing in his head and bouncing around in his ribcage, wondering what exactly they mean, Louis pushes away his fluster and forces his shoulders to relax indifferently.

He needs this to take a different approach. He can’t do this, he can’t do _banter_ and _flirting_ with Harry, he really can’t. Not necessarily because it feels wrong, but rather because it feels like if they continue this any longer Louis’ stomach is going to start fluttering, and that is truly ridiculous. Stupid Niall.

“Well,” he says lightly. “I think my company good for you, honestly. I mean, since my big-headedness is justified and all, and yours isn’t.”

Harry instantly drops his smile to replace it with a raised, challenging eyebrow, and he stops walking to properly be able to look at Louis. “Really, now?”

Louis has got to hand it to him—most creatures have trouble keeping up with Louis. His mood and his always buzzing mind is unpredictable and abrupt, and Louis knows that that often leave people in his surroundings a few pages behind himself. It must take some effort to always manage to stay with Louis, no matter what.

Well. It’s not like Louis is complaining.

He nods defiantly, adds a shrug to it to look his most nonchalant.

“Looks isn’t everything, you know? And I mean, here _I_ am, outshining the Day itself with not only my stunning face, but _also_ my wonderful wits and outstanding charisma—“

“Okay, let’s not push it,” Harry says, amusement prickling his features.

“And here _you_ are,” Louis makes a gesture towards Harry, scanning his body critically. “And you have a pretty face and nice legs. What do you do with that?”

A laugh bubbles up in Harry’s throat and he shakes his head. “My _job_ , maybe?”

Does he _have_ to be a goofy laugher? Goofy laughers are nice people. Goofy laughers are endearing. Louis does not have time to be endeared.

“Oh, come on,” he snaps, “There is _no_ reason for you to be attractive to be able to do your job. Awful people shouldn’t be able to look attractive.”

“How much do you actually know about Underworld creatures, Louis?”

“Enough,” Louis decides. He doesn’t really know anything. He knows they’re probably very bad.

“I possess a physically attractive human form,” Harry grins, “because it makes me have the upper hand. You have no idea how much being hot will do for people’s trust in you.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “You’re _repulsive_.”

“I’m only telling you the truth,” Harry shrugs. “Obviously there are a bunch of truly hideous bad creatures as well, but they’re supposed to _scare_ you. They’re mostly just dangerous for your physical well-being. You can easily outsmart them, if they ever encounter you. The creatures you should really fear are the ones who can affect your mind.”

“Like you?” Louis asks defiantly. He’d be dead before he’d ever genuinely fear Harry ever again.

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, and then he nods. He’s coming closer and closer, and Louis doesn’t know which one of them is moving forward.

“Yeah. Like me. I’m not the only one, though. All my sisters and brothers are beautiful, beautiful beings. We lull humans into a false sense of security, of reliability. Humans are terribly impressionable and if they see a pretty person, they’ll immediately give you a part of themselves without even knowing it, because their first impression is to _like_ you.”

Louis vaguely remembers Eleanor saying something similar once. He’s having trouble actually recalling anything now, because Harry’s face is only a couple of inches from his own.

“That wasn’t my first impression,” Louis totally lies. Again. It had been, hadn’t it? It’s embarrassing, to think of it now. “And even if I had, it disappeared as soon as you opened your mouth. Because. Um. Because your personality is—repellent.”

How did they end up this close? Louis has no idea, but he’s stuttering, and Harry’s warm breath is hitting against his face and tickling his lips, and Louis’ head feel light from the sensation.

“Really?” Harry mutters, and now their chests are touching. Louis can hardly breathe.

Harry’s lips are so _plush_. They look like rose petals, like velvet cushions, like raspberry stained silk. It’s hypnotizing, having them this up-close, and Louis just wants to _taste_ them.

He’s been trying to hold it back, press it down now, because he shouldn’t, he can’t, he doesn’t want to give Harry that piece of him. He doesn’t want to ruin the perfectly solid walls he’s built ever since their first conversation, the walls who protects him from Harry turning dangerous, the walls who seem to crumble a tiny, tiny bit every time he manages to make Harry smile.

But as he dares flick his eyes quickly upwards and down again to catch a glimpse of Harry’s eyes, they’re dark and focused, and he seems to want this just as much as Louis does, and there is a hand sneaking up to press against the short of Louis’ back, and Louis thinks, fuck this.

He blames Niall one more time as he gives up and leans in.

And then they’re rudely interrupted by the shrill, loud sound of a flute.

Harry and Louis fly apart like two negative magnets, leaving as much space between them as they can to make up for the previous lack of it. Louis can feel himself go beet red all the way from his chest up to the very tip of his ears.

What just happened?

Or, what was just _about_ to happen, more like.

Harry scratches at the back of his head, turning his back to Louis. Louis is glad, because he’s sure he himself is looking awful right now, all flustered and red and glossy eyed. Harry definitely does not need to see the effect the almost-happening had on Louis.

To Louis’ relief, there’s no time for a loaded attempt at conversation, because the sound that—fortunately? Unfortunately? Louis doesn’t know—interrupted them doesn’t stop, but rather advances and comes closer. Louis narrows his eyes and shoots his head a little forward, trying to see what’s emerging out from the thick fog in front of them.

It’s a faun. A small one, definitely a child, with a pan flute gently put to his lips as he’s skipping happily along the path. He stops when he reaches the pair, eyeing them both up and down with a curious expression.

“Hello,” he greets them. “What issue of yours is leading you here?”

“Um,” Louis gives the young faun a tentative look. His brain is still mushy from the warmth of Harry’s breath, and he struggles with getting out the right words. “We’d—I’d—like to talk to Faunus. And, uh... Niall sent us here?”

At the mention of Niall’s name, the faun relaxes in a smile and nods. “Of course. Follow here, gentlemen!”

Louis exhales deeply in relief and tells himself rigorously to wake the fuck up. Then he follows the faun, Harry just a few steps behind.

 

~

 

As the fog disappears, a forest appears in its place. Or, well. Not exactly the kind of forest Louis is used to. Instead of birches or oaks, there are what Louis believes to be palm trees standing up proudly, and grass that brushes against Louis’ calves as he walk through it. There is a huge throne towering up in front of the massive trees, though, a throne—unsurprisingly made of marble— covered in palm leaves and framed with rich bowls of deep purple grapes. In the chair itself, another faun sits—Faunus, presumably—also playing along on a flute similar to his little helper’s one.

The little faun who led the way bows when he catches the attention of Faunus, and disappears into the forest, and now Harry and Louis are left alone with the God.

Faunus stops his playing to eye his new visitors curiously.

“Well,” he says. “A Norse one from the Forest and a Greek one from the Underworld. What can I possibly provide this odd pair with?”

Louis swallows, the tiniest bit intimidated by Faunus’ authority. He won’t let that show, though, so he clears his throat and starts explaining the issue.

“Yes,” he states firmly. “I have a friend who’s one of your fauns. He went home from University of the Three a couple of days before the malfunction of the portals was announced. And I never got to know what happened to him, but now since I’ve ended up here I thought I’d ask… You don’t happen to know where Stan is?”

Faunus, who’s been listening intently with a concentrated frown, lets his face soften with a smile.

“I do,” he confirms. “I am happy to tell you Stan is just fine. Luckily he got home in time.”

Louis almost falls to his knees in pure relief. He drags the heaviest of sighs, emptying his lungs off of the air that’s been thickening with stress inside his body, shoulders sinking down to their normal height after being tense for so long.

“Thank you. Thank you,” be breathes. “Is there any chance for me to meet him?”

“Of course. You just walk into the forest here on the path and take left when it splits. I’ll call for him to come and meet up with you,” Faunus assures, before bringing the flute to his lips once more, playing a new sort of melody.

Louis hasn’t been this excited since—well, probably since he got the chance to become forty feet tall for twenty minutes in Wonderland, so not really that long, but still. This is a different kind of excitement, this is combined with relief and the sweetness of being reunited with a friend, and it’s lovely. He lifts off of the ground in his eagerness, and Harry stumbles after, swiftly running after him with an eye roll.

The forest is all green and thick, and the sound of various melodies sounding from pan flutes all around should be disorienting and annoying, but it sounds weirdly melodic. It soon becomes quite apparent to Louis that the flutes must be how they all interact with each other from a distance.

Louis follows the path Faunus referred to, straight to the left with Harry straggling behind him, until he finally catches a glimpse of another creature coming from the other end. Louis widens his eyes and picks up the pace a little more. When he finally can see that yes, it is in fact Stan, he lights up in a smile so wide his cheeks ought to be sore for days after.

“Stan!” he yells at the top of his lungs, flying for all that he’s worth.

“ _Louis_?” a cry echoes back with just as much fervor, but also a whole lot of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Louis doesn’t have the time to slow down, and within a couple of seconds he’s crashing into his friend, bringing them both to the ground.

Stan yelps, squirming out of the pile he and Louis’ created on the ground. “Gee, Lou, you sure do know how to make an entrance.”

Louis doesn’t care.

“I am _so_ happy you’re okay!” he exclaims, pulling Stan into his chest tightly. “Do you know how scared Eleanor and I was? Very, that’s how scared we were. We thought you’d gone to the Underworld or something.”

Stan huffs, cheek violently pressed to Louis’ chest. “Lou. Can’t breathe.”

“Oh!” Louis’ eyes widen and he bashfully lets go. “Sorry.”

“’S alright.” The faun rubs a hand over his collarbones. “Now, what I really want to know is when, how, and why you got here.”

Louis beams. “You’re going to be _blown away_ , Stan, I swear.”

He takes a deep breath, getting himself in the epic-story-telling zone, but he’s promptly interrupted by an awkward cough.

They both look up at Harry, who’s still standing there, eyeing them with a raised eyebrow.

“I can leave if you guys want,” he suggests.

Louis lets out an “oh,” as Stan lets out a gasp, his eyes growing so big Louis fears they will pop out of their sockets.

“Oh, no!” Louis is quickly on his feet again, pulling Stan with him. “Just getting a bit carried away, it’s all good…”

“I can see that.” There’s a strange purse to Harry’s lips that’s very difficult for Louis to read.

Louis clears his throat uncomfortably, and Stan has yet to lose his stare on Harry’s tall figure.

“Louis…” he swallows. “This uh… A friend of yours?”

Harry flashes him a tight-lipped smile. “Harry Styles. You take Human Anatomy at UoT, right?”

“Yeah.” Stan blinks. “I know who you are. It’s kind of hard to… miss. In class, I mean. Because you. Uh. Hold on, this is—Lou?”

Stan gives Louis a nearly desperate look. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Louis moves his gaze over to Harry and rolls his eyes when he sees the spirit’s stance. Harry’s arms are crossed pointedly over his chest, his eyebrows bitterly furrowed and it’s one of those moments Louis is really, truly reminded of who Harry is, because he actually looks—well. Scary.

Louis isn’t having it, though. So he elbows Harry’s side to get his attention, giving him a raise of his brow. “Stop it, Harry.”

Harry tilts his head, still defiant. “Stop what?”

“With the grumpy intimidating thing. It’s mean.”

“That’s my face, Louis.”

“No, it’s not,” Louis pouts. “Your face has dimples. I’m not seeing any.”

Harry gives him a severely judging stare. It doesn’t bother Louis much, he’s used to it by now. He just looks back with determined insolence.

“Well?” he demands. He just receives a disbelieving scoff in return, so he decides to take the matter into own hands. He can’t properly talk to Stan when Harry’s standing there purposely making the faun nervous. Louis doesn’t know what he’s playing at, but he needs it to stop.

So Louis reaches out and pokes a finger into Harry’s cheek where his dimple is supposed to be showing. Harry flinches away a little in surprise, but it doesn’t stop Louis from poking again and again.

“I’m not stopping until I see a dimple,” he enlightens Harry, “the rest is completely up to you.”

Without stopping, Louis then turns back to a practically gaping Stan, not even batting an eyelash as he starts explaining.

“So to skip the messy details, Harry and I kind of fell through a broken portal. By accident, mind you, it was a complete matter of bad luck.” Poke, poke, poke. “So we ended up in Grimm, where I wanted to stay, but _Harry_ had to go and be a moron—“

He completely ignores Harry’s glare. “And then along the way, we adopted a shape shifter, his name is Liam, lovely boy. And unfortunately, it’s been his lifelong dream to explore other worlds. So here we are, jumping from one portal to another. It’s dangerous as fuck, but I just seem to get outvoted every time I want to settle down and wait, so… Here we are. And we’ve been proper heroes, like, we helped a girl escape from imprisonment of a bad witch, and we created total chaos in Wonderland to find a portal, and I grew the size of a giant for a little while—it’s been wild, I tell you that. And we’ll be going again as soon as possible because apparently Liam has a soul mate on Earth and it’s worth taking the chance to end up in the Underworld once again, so… I guess we’ll have to leave in just a bit. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are!”

Louis finishes his ramble with a winning smile, and Stan doesn’t look like this made the situation any clearer at all.

“Right,” he utters slowly. “Um.”

Louis decides to let the words sink in for Stan a little, so in the meantime he turns to Harry again.

“Smiling yet?” he asks lightly. Harry’s immediate reply is a tired glare, but Louis is positive there is something tugging at his lips, so he keeps up the poking. “You want to, you tragic idiot. Pouting is _such_ an unflattering look on you. No wonder poor Stan is uncomfortable by your presence.”

Maybe Harry is some kind of masochist—to think of it, it would make perfect sense—because the abuse seems to do the trick, and his mouth is widening into a—if only a little unwilling—smile. Louis nods and removes his finger from the now deepening of Harry’s left cheek, incredibly pleased with himself.

“See?” he motions for Stan to look. “Got the whole world fooled, this one. Real child, he is.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up.”

“Charming, as well. Courteous and benevolent. Don’t know what all this fuss is about.”

This does, admittedly, make Stan look less wary, but he weighs it up with a strong sense of confusion. He’s quiet for a while, studying the two carefully.

“Are you two…” he at last attempts hesitantly, “like… A _thing_?”

Silence. Widening of eyes. Then;

“ _No_!” Harry and Louis exclaim in unison, a little too loudly, horrified looks on their faces.

Louis clears his throat and swallows, refusing to look at Harry for even a second, so he focuses all his attention on Stan.

“No,” he reaffirms. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” Stan bites his lip. “Sorry. I just though it—I don’t know. Phew. Or, not that I’d mind if you ever were. Whatever floats your boat. It would make sense, actually, Louis, you have to admit, given your weird proclaimed fascination with—“

“ _Hah_!” Louis shrieks obnoxiously, roughly cutting his friend off before things get completely mortifying. “ _Ha_ , _ha_! You’re just hilarious, Stan, cracks me up every time, really, you should be a comedian, you’d do great, I’d be right there in the front row—“

“Maybe we should get back,” Harry interposes, an infuriating shadow of a smirk playing on his face. Thanks a _lot_ , Stan. “Niall and Liam are probably growing tired of waiting.”

Louis nods. “Right.” He tries to breathe calmly in and out to regain control over his face, which is probably blossoming more than flowerbed of roses in July, before turning to his friend. “Stan. It would feel wrong to not at least offer, so if you want, you’re free to come with.”

Stan is quiet once again, letting his apprehensive gaze wander over Louis and Harry and back with slight skepticism in his narrowed eyes. At last, he sighs and smiles.

“I’m just fine where I am,” he shrugs. “I suppose there’s nothing I can say to make you consider staying?”

“No, not really,” Harry replies before Louis gets the chance to, and Louis swats his upper arm.

“We’ll be fine,” Louis assures. “We made it this far, right?”

“Right.” Stan draws out swirly patterns in the ground with his toes, considering something for a minute. “Can I… Just talk to you in private for a bit? Like, two minutes tops.”

“Of course.” Louis nods, turning to tell Harry to start walking, but Harry seems one step ahead already, slowly backing away with a crooked smile. So he’s still stuck on that whole ‘proclaimed fascination’ then, Louis assumes with dread. “I’ll catch up with you, then.”

Harry nods, turning on his heel to start walking.

As soon as he’s remotely out of earshot, Louis throws a glare at his friend.

“Did you _have_ to mention that?” he hisses. “ _Really_?”

“I’m sorry,” Stan raises his hands apologetically. “If I knew I wasn’t supposed to mention it, I wouldn’t have.”

“Why would you even think it was okay to begin with?”

“Because I thought he knew already!” Stan snaps impatiently. “Which is what I want to talk about. Listen, Louis, if you, like… If you _fancy_ him, that’s completely alright with me. Just be careful, okay, because what Eleanor and I have warned you about before still stands, and—“

“ _Wow_ , now,” Louis exclaims, slightly panicked. “Hold your horses. No one’s ‘fancying’ anyone. Where did you get that from? Harry is the worst person I know. I hate him. You weren’t there to witness what happened at UoT, but trust me. I hate him.”

To Louis’ dislike, Stan doesn’t look like this changed his opinion in the slightest. He doesn’t even have the decency to look puzzled, but rather, he just raises an incredulous eyebrow. “ _Really_?”

“Yes!”

“Is that why you insisted to poke his cheek repeatedly because you wanted him to smile so badly?”

“I—that was for your sake!” Louis stutters. “He was being unnecessarily frowny for no reason and I could see it bothered you.”

“He was ‘frowny’,” Stan says slowly, “because he was jealous you and I were so close.”

This is insane. This is flat out, undoubtedly _ridiculous_. Louis can’t do anything but stare for a good twenty seconds before he can even muster up the control to answer.

“You,” he accuses, “are _crazy_.”

“Am I really, though?” Stan figures, eyes fixing on Louis, so sure of his thing. Louis is speechless. “You attack me, Harry’s mood drops instantly. Anyone would be expecting him to be moody and intimidating for no reason, but you start complaining about him being ‘grumpy’. You then proceed to touch his face repeatedly just to make him smile, and you _succeed_. When you’ve brought out a smile genuine enough to make him look sympathetic—which I have never seen on him before personally—it doesn’t stop there, but you must also indulge in a bit of _harmless banter_. Do you know what he would do to anyone else calling him ‘a tragic idiot’? Can you _guess_?”

Louis closes his mouth shut, pursing his lips for a second.

“Okay,” he tries, “so when you put it like _that_ I guess it sounds kind of suspicious—“

“Look, I’m not going to pry,” Stan says, backing away with an apologetic smile. “I’m just saying, that _if_ there was something going on—“

“Which there _isn’t_ —“

“I’d want you to be careful.”

Louis rolls his eyes as pointedly as he can. “I wouldn’t get together with him for anything, Stan. I am perfectly safe.”

Stan sighs. “Sure, if you say so.”

“I do.”

“Just—“ the faun bites his lip. “You do know you’re capable of staying here yourself, right? Let them go without you?”

Louis frowns. What does that have to do with anything? “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then why are you going with him? If you don’t think it’s a good idea, why do you still go with him?”

Louis has so much to say, he wants to tell Stan about how that’s absolutely irrelevant to Harry, that he’s doing it because of Liam, or because maybe he genuinely enjoys the adventures, or just about anything that doesn’t come right back to the spirit of pain.

He doesn’t get the chance to, because the next second Stan’s enveloping him in one last quick hug, patting his back.

“Just consider it, yeah? Have a nice journey, Louis.”

And then he turns around, walking away, and Louis stands there watching him go, quite dumbfounded.

It’s probably Niall’s fault, he settles for. Everything is Niall’s fault.

 

~

 

It doesn’t take too long to catch up with Harry, as Louis flies and Harry walks in his own, comfortable pace, and the air is, if anything, even thicker than before between them when they’re walking next to each other again. Louis curses mentally.

“Did you have a nice chat?” Harry asks nonchalantly.

“Yeah.” Louis doesn’t even look at him, focusing on the path straight ahead of them, watching the green slowly, slowly fade to smooth marble again.

“May I ask what the topic was?”

“Uh, just making sure I’m not staying here, really.”

“Okay. And you’re not, then?”

“No. Someone’s got to save your asses out of trouble.”

Harry snorts as a reply, and silence falls in between them again. Louis’ head is spinning from Stan’s words and irrational thinking. Was he genuinely able to look at Harry and Louis, enemies extraordinaire, and think ‘ _oh, this might be how a pair of romantically involved individuals act’_? That’s just completely absurd. Stan must have the absolute worst intuition in all of the worlds.

Louis thinks ‘ _why are you going with him?_ ’ and ‘ _if you fancy him, that’s completely alright with me’,_ and his head hurts. It really doesn’t make things easier that the Niall Effect is still alive and thriving, clouding his judgment as soon as he as much catches a glimpse of the spirit’s face.

When the silence is broken by Harry once again, he seem to have taken a different approach, and Louis spine stiffens.

“So.” He’s dragging out the word suggestively, and when Louis throws a glance at him he’s met with the smuggest smirk he’s ever seen in his life.

Fuck.

Louis knows straight away what’s coming, and his only thought is that this would be hard enough already _without_ wanting to smoothen out that smirk with his tongue.

“Proclaimed fascination, huh?” Harry questions, sounding endlessly satisfied with himself.

Louis makes sure to not bestow Harry a single glace. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry hums, obviously not believing him, and Louis can feel green eyes burning spots into his temple.

“You can’t blame me for wondering,” he muses. “Given our first encounter.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ —Louis had hoped Harry would’ve forgotten that by now. Hoped in uttermost desperation, to be honest, that it would never, ever be brought up ever again.

“What are you talking about?” he still insists, hating the way red hotness slowly creeps up his neck. “You broke into my dorm and picked a fight at our first encounter.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, Louis. Our _first_ encounter.”

Oh god. Louis completely ignores how the rush of his blood goes from slow and threatening to flat out racing, coloring his entire face several red shades darker within a couple of microseconds. He puts on a stubborn frown to hide it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, at loss for other words. This doesn’t bode well for him. When Louis doesn’t know what to say, that’s his first sign of a disaster coming on.

“You blush quite a lot, pixie,” Harry comments lightly. “What for?”

“Shut up! I’m not blushing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“You are blushing so hard. You have like, never blushed harder than this.”

“You are _so_ failing this being nice class.”

Harry just laughs, a throaty and strangely melodic sound. Well. Louis is glad at least someone’s having a good time. He shakes his head. Why couldn’t it have been Eleanor who’d gone missing? Eleanor would never do Louis like this. She would be far too busy glaring to have the time to bring up humiliating memories of Louis’ previous judgments. Stan is the worst friend in the world. And Harry is the worst creature. So maybe they’d be more compatible, really.

Louis frowns at the thought. No, actually. That would be wrong on so many levels.

He shakes the image off and looks back to Harry, who’s staring right back pleadingly. Louis swears he can almost see a pout to his lips and he swallows.

“Why can’t you tell me what that was about?”

So he’s attempting a different approach, Louis states. It’s a slight improvement from the embarrassing complacency, admittedly, but Louis is still not going to fall for it.

“Because there’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re lying, though.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“I am _not_!”

Harry bites his lip, raising an eyebrow. “Would there still be nothing to tell if I told you something in return?”

Louis wants to blatantly turn him down, wants to be indifferent and unaffected by the offer, but he just can’t help the flicker of curiosity poking its head up in the back of his mind. As much as he hates Harry, he’s—sadly—still an incredibly intriguing person.

“What would that something be?” he swallows, trying his best to sound nonchalant, but he knows he’s failing miserably.

The corners of Harry’s mouth is pulling upwards. “Your choice.”

That’s… That doesn’t sound too bad. Louis scorns himself for taking the bait like this, but he simply can’t resist it. He can’t resist an opportunity like this, and he’s ninety-nine percent sure Harry knows that, too.

“And you’ll answer? No matter what the question is?”

He looks closely for something on Harry’s face that might hint at this being a lie, but he’s not finding anything. Harry’s face is completely straight as he answers simply;

“Yes.”

Louis is just about to give his approval and seal the deal, but then he looks forward and realizes they’re only meters away from Niall and Liam. Harry seems to notice as well, because his face drops in, Louis is pretty sure, disappointment.

“We’re talking about this later,” he declares, and Louis just nods. This is good. Now maybe he’ll have time to prepare both a suitable answer and a question. Maybe, best case scenario, they’ll just never have the time to get to a ‘later’, even. That would be the dream.

Liam has a very weird facial expression when they finally get so close they can make out each other’s features. Louis can’t understand what it means, brown eyes wandering along the pair before him as they stand for a second in loaded silence. Why it’s so thick, Louis doesn’t know.

Niall, though, is happy as always.

“Did you find your friend?” he asks.

Louis confirms that yes, he did, with a smile and a thank you, and Niall just beams and turns around.

“Fantastic. Now, let’s go find Mother.”

Louis excitedly nods his head, but Harry’s shoulders slump remarkably beside the shorter boy.

“Yay,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong _this_ time?” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” Harry deadpans. “Just a little hesitant towards being in the same room as the literal embodiment of love, is all. No biggie.”

They start moving forward again, Niall slowing down his pace to fall back a little so he can pet Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, mate.”

It doesn’t seem to lift Harry’s spirit very much, as his only response is biting his lip and sighing softly.

“Hold on,” Louis says suddenly, as soon as the meaning of Harry’s words has properly sunk in. “Literal embodiment of—Niall, who is your mother?”

Niall blinks. “Venus,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing. “I’m guessing you’d know her as.”

Louis is going to pass the fuck out.

“ _Venus_?” he breathes. “Like… The _goddess_?”

“Is there another Venus I don’t know about?” Niall deadpans.

That’s… That’s… That’s something. Louis is fine. Louis is so completely fine. This is great. This is just peachy. It’s not like he’s been wishing all his life for something like this to happen.

“Let’s just go,” he declares, picking up the pace.

 

~

 

Venus is easier to convince than any of them expected. She’s calmly sitting there in her mountain of pillows and silk sheets, eating sensually from the—apparently essential—large bowl of grapes by her side while attentively listening to everything Niall has to say. Louis remembers what Eleanor said about Aphrodite, if Venus is the same. Everything she does looks incredibly suggestive, and Louis isn’t sure if it’s a conscious thing or not, but it would make sense either way.

Niall is explaining their situation factually and simply, but it seems that he’s simultaneously having a completely different discussion with his mother—one that consists of weird looks and short nods that doesn’t at all add up to the words spilling from his mouth, and it’s definitely confusing.

When he’s finished talking, Venus strokes her long, adorned fingers over her chin—endlessly slow and sultrily—in thought. Louis can’t help but admire her attracting elegance.

“Very well,” she announces after a few moments of silence. “You may use my portal. Although, before I’m greenlighting this completely, I would like to have a word with my son.”

All four of them exchange baffled looks, surprised that that seemed to be all it took. Niall speaks up first, nodding as he directs the other three to another room a couple of doors away inside the beautiful mansion.

“Walk into the room over there,” he says, pointing towards a doorway to their right. “And then through the left door and wait for me there. Don’t touch anything.”

Harry, Louis, and Liam nod and obediently start walking in the direction Niall pointed out.

“On a second though!” Niall exclaims suddenly, causing everyone to flinch and turn around. “I think it’s better if Liam stays behind. After all, this might be good for him to hear. Right, mother?”

More of that strange eye-communication ensues, and at last Venus raises an eyebrow and agrees. “Of course.”

Liam stares, flipping his gaze between Harry and Louis, and Niall, before carefully walking back over to the cupid. Niall smiles angelically.

“That’s better. The both of you better go in there, though, this is private stuff,” he tells Louis and Harry. “We only have to discuss a couple of things, you can wait a while, yeah?”

He gets a muffled response from the pair, who unwillingly keeps walking into the other room.

 

~

 

Niall watches the pair leave with endless satisfaction, Liam stopping to stand next to him.

“You don’t actually need me here, do you?” he asks tiredly.

“Nope.” Niall pops the ‘p’ innocently, smiling sweetly.

 

~

 

“So I guess, since we have nothing better to do, maybe we could finish that conversation we had earlier.”

Louis snaps his head up to look at Harry, mentally groaning. Why does Harry have to push this so hard? Why can’t he let Louis live? It’s not even that important, Louis was naïve and didn’t know better, and—

But Harry’s standing there only a few meters away, leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed, looking at Louis expectantly, and Louis know he’s probably screwed.

“Do we have to do this?” he still tries pleadingly.

He’s met with a doubtless, strong “yes”, and he sighs as deeply as he possibly can to underline how little he wants this.

“Right,” Louis says. “But you start. That’s my only condition.”

“Fine.” Harry’s face is unreadable. “Shoot.”

There is a lot Louis wants to ask. He wants to ask about Harry’s job—how many people does he hurt on a regular day? How bad can he make something hurt? Why does he seem to like it? Is that something he’s been forced to enjoy, or is it just in his nature already? And if it is, why would he want to change? Maybe Louis could ask about his upbringing—why is Eris such a sensitive subject, especially if he now is her favorite? What are his sisters and brothers like? What kind of souls end up in Tartaros? Is it as bad as the rumors say it is?

He should probably ask about what Eris has to do with the portals. He should demand for Harry to tell him everything he could possibly know about this. That would undoubtedly be the most practical and important question to ask, considering their situation.

But as he’s opening his mouth, memories of his conversation with Stan comes flooding, bouncing around like ‘ _he was jealous’_ and ‘ _do you know what he would do to anyone else calling him a tragic idiot?’_ and what tumbles out of his mouth instead is;

“Why do you keep up with me?”

As they both widen their eyes in surprise, it’s painfully evident none of them had been expecting the question to take that approach.

“Wait,” Louis rushes. “Shit. Can I redo that? Is that a thing?”

“No, by all means, I’ll answer if you want.” Harry blinks a couple of times. “Please elaborate.”

“Uh.” This must be some kind of record number for Louis, because he’s feeling his face flush _again_. Harry will never know this, though, that’s he’s managed to make Louis blush in a day more than anyone else has done during the entire time they’ve known him. Louis will die with that information still perfectly tucked in safely in a little folder in the far, far back of his brain.

“I mean…” How does he even explain this without sounding like an idiot? “I know I can be—I’m quite brilliant, obviously, but I know that also makes me quite a handful. Like, I know I can come off as quite rude and ever-changing and stuff, and a lot of people… Find that hard to deal with. And I mean… You have gotten your way practically your entire life, haven’t you? So you if anyone should be annoyed and quite frankly, ready to crush me. Why do you keep up with me?”

“Oh.” Harry is quiet for a second, but it doesn’t look like he’s contemplating an answer. He looks like he’s already pretty sure of the reason, and he confirms it when he parts his wetted lips to reply. “Because you’re not scared of me, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You only got one question, but I’ll let that slide because I’m feeling generous.” Louis rolls his eyes and has a retort ready to roll off his tongue smoothly, but Harry continues before he gets there. “I _mean_ , most creatures around me just let me have my way with everything because they don’t want me to—to hurt them, I guess. And you just don’t seem to care about that. And—don’t get me wrong, it _is_ infuriating as fuck, and you do annoy me more than anything. But it’s also kind of refreshing, to not having to worry about scaring someone.”

Louis wants to know more. Now that Harry’s started, now that his voice has gone all low and revealing and now that he’s refusing to look Louis in the eye, Louis desperately needs to know more of this apparent effect he’s having on the spirit. The thing is, not even once has he ever gotten to hear that his mood and sharp comments are particularly good in the long run. Tiring, he’s heard, he’s seen, he’s known, confusing, he’s pretty sure. He’s been able to see it on other creatures’ faces, that amused albeit puzzled expression, and he hasn’t ever had any intention to stop because this is who he is and he likes how he’s always a step ahead of his surroundings.

Of course, that still doesn’t change the fact that hearing someone else—even if only vaguely—complimenting those aspects of him makes his chest puff out a bit. And Louis loves himself, and naturally, he wants to hear more. He wants to know if Harry has thought about this before, if maybe Louis could get a full analysis sometime.

As it is, Harry seems content with ending it there, and Louis wouldn’t embarrass himself with pressuring for half-compliments. That would make him come off as awfully desperate, and he doesn’t really do desperate.

“Okay,” he concludes, the small upwards perk of his mouth dropping when he realizes what he has to do in return. Fuck. “Listen, I just want you to know that what I’m about to tell you is _such_ a small thing. Like, don’t even dwell on it. It’s stupid, yeah? Don’t expect too much.”

Harry just waves his hands dismissively with a frown. “I literally don’t care.”

“Okay.” It comes out as a pathetic squeak, and Louis clears his throat thoroughly before starting to dig his own grave with his words. “So, this was a while ago. And basically, we had this thing where Eleanor would tell us a bunch of things about Olympus and her life there, because I like the stories and Stan just likes Eleanor. And this one time, she got to the topic of Harmonia and Eris, and then her, um. Offsprings. And from there, she started talking about you. She really doesn’t like you, did you know?”

Harry scoffs. “Yeah, I did. Full of lovely bullshit, that girl.”

Louis stops, balling his fists and narrowing his eyes into thin lines. “She’s also my _friend_ , Harry, so I’d watch it.”

“Whatever,” Harry stresses the expression with an eye roll. “So Eleanor talks some shit that she probably heard straight down from her grandfather. Then what?”

Let it go, Louis. Let it go. That’s an issue for later.

“Well,” Louis drawls. “The stuff she’s saying sounded pretty harsh. But I, call me foolish, like to believe that everyone has a motive for acting the way they do. So naturally, I asked her if she knew _why_ you did all the things she claimed you did. And apparently, that counts as having some kind of dangerous crush if you ask my friends, because both of them got super defensive. And they like, they assured me that you were the most terrible creature to ever grace the worlds, and so obviously, I stood by my cause, because I refused to believe a creature could just be born so cruel, like, there must be a story, and instead of considering if I might have a point, they accused me of being _naïve_.”

As Louis continues speaking, Harry’s bitterly furrowed brow loosens up, and he’s looking at Louis in an amazed, but also incredibly incredulous way, jaw dropped. Louis wouldn’t know, though, because he’s starting to steam up again at the memory, ranting all over the place.

“And they turned so _condescending_ , so _mocking_ , just because I honestly thought there might be something more to you than your upbringing and job, so in the end I just thought, fuck it! I’m going to prove that I’m right. I’m going to march my way down there, and I’m—“

And then he’s roughly cut off by a firm pair of lips and a warm body against his own.

Harry’s kissing him.

 

~

 

“Mother,” Niall starts. “I just really need your thoughts on Harry and Louis before we leave. I’m absolutely certain there is something there, their entire body language screams out that there is, but… I just need to know that I’m doing the right thing. They’re after all not mine to pair up, are they?”

Venus bites her lip thoughtfully, ponders her sons words for a moment.

“You need to not interfere more than absolutely necessary,” she replies slowly. “Too much interference may scare them off. It’s a tender thing, their spark, blowing too hard might put the fire out. You mustn’t rush it. But yes. You are doing the right thing, and if you want them, I’ll make a switch.”

Niall sighs, relieved. “Thank you. So, they are supposed to be together? It’s going to end happily, right?”

Venus purses her lips, face hardening into something serious.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she reminds him sternly. “That’s not entirely up to me, regardless.”

Right. Niall’s shoulders slump a little with disappointment. He makes sure not to show it excessively, though, as he knows that if his mother caught even the slightest hunch of him getting attached to Harry and Louis as people, she would take it all back immediately and have someone else pair them up. You can’t get too involved with your client’s lives, is the thing, you can’t start sympathize with them _too_ much. Niall constantly cheats that rule, as he is a hopeless romantic and takes a liking to other creatures easily, so he’s become quite good at covering it up. Especially now, he can’t take any risks. He wants this too much to cock it up.

“Of course,” he says. He turns to Liam, who’s been standing quietly beside him the entire time, nervously biting his thumbnail. “I guess we better be going, then.”

“You better,” Venus agrees. “I have an appointment with Mars in only a little while.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “That’s like, the fourth time this week, isn’t it?”

Venus just smiles with satisfaction, and Liam can definitely see where Niall got that sweet but impish grin from.

“I would also like to remind your shape shifter friend here,” she continues, ignoring Niall’s jab and moving her attention over to Liam, “that if he ever mentions this conversation to anyone, especially the couple in question, there will be consequences. This isn’t usually for your ears to hear.”

Her eyes are piercing through the very heart of Liam’s soul and out on the other side, and Liam gulps and nods as an answer. Niall kind of understands him—his mother could be quite intimidating at times. Not that she would genuinely hurt someone, but she could give off the vibe. Niall is envious of that, as he doesn’t seem to have inherited that quality. He couldn’t scare someone to save his life.

Venus seems content with the confirmation, Niall makes her agree to contact Freyja and help getting Zayn out, and after that she finally sighs. “Right then, off you go. And be careful.”

Liam is quickly out of there, Niall following closely behind, eager to get started. Adventures always gets him going. Not to mention that he can disguise this one as a job and get the full experience.

He stops, though, as they leave the first room, standing completely still as he’s struck with a sudden electric wave of tension from the room they’re supposed to enter. His eyes widen when he realizes what’s going on in there, first in glee, and then in horror as he watches Liam storm up to burst through that door, totally unknowing of what’s behind there.

“Wait, Liam—“ he tries, but he’s too late, and Liam has already pushed down the ornate door handle and flung the door wide open.

 

~

 

Harry's lips are a soft sort of rough on Louis' thin ones, his smooth tongue massaging specks of emotion into the small creases of the fairy's lips.

Louis’ eyes are blown wide, at first completely taken aback by the sudden closeness, unsure of what to do. He tries to reason, tries to remember why this shouldn’t be a thing that happens, but he can’t focus on anything except the feeling of Harry’s hands against his back and the fact that his lips are just as soft as they look. In the end he can’t contain himself from pushing up on his toes, leaning in closer to get more of the intoxicating scent, more of the heat, more of everything. He just needs _more_.

It’s not like Louis hasn’t kissed anyone before. He’s kissed creatures of all genders, short, playful flings brought on by the rush of spring or need of warmth during winter. They’ve been fun, they’ve been shy, and they’ve been nice. Louis likes kissing.

But as he sneaks his own, small hands up Harry’s chest and neck to tangle fingers into soft, chocolate curls, he thinks he might as well never had physical contact with another creature before, because nothing he’s felt has been even close to the sensational sparks that explode all throughout his body right now.

Harry just kisses so differently. There’s nothing shy or innocent about the way he sucks Louis’ lower lip in between his teeth, there is no hesitation or insecurity. It makes Louis’ head light and spinning as a shaky leaf in a thunderstorm.

"Fucking Niall," Harry mutters, pulling Louis' lower lip with him between his teeth a bit. Louis shudders.

"Fucking Niall," he agrees. Indeed. The cupid probably planted this seed right here for pure entertainment. He will probably laugh at them later. Louis realizes he can't really bother to care.

He does care, though, when the door to the room is loudly slammed open, revealing an impatient Liam.

The shape shifter’s face drops immediately as his eyes land on his friends, and he looks about ready to turn in the doorway and run for his life in the opposite direction.

Louis yelps and rips them both apart, flying so far away from Harry he knocks his back against the rock hard wall with a hiss. His face is undoubtedly flushed and flustered, his lips are still tingling and his jeans are a little tighter than earlier. This is the worst thing to ever happen to him, he’s sure, as the three of them stand completely still, staring at each other. Liam in distress, Louis in shame, and Harry—well, Louis wouldn’t know. He’s refusing to look at the spirit.

So for an excruciating amount of time, they’re all engaging in the most painful, awkward silence this far known to man, and Louis wishes to quite simply have a dagger stuck into his ribcage to end this torture, when Niall perks his head up from behind Liam.

“Hi, lads! Ready to go, then?”

It’s obvious that he knows what’s been going on in here, with the way he’s eyeing Harry and Louis with amusement, and Louis narrows his eyes. This is all Niall’s fault. He should not be smirking like there’s a reason to be happy in life. Louis wants him to hang his head in shame and apologize.

“Yeah.” Liam whimpers out a reply, seemingly coming to life again. He starts moving forwards on wobbly legs towards the portal in the middle of the room. He throws a look on Harry and Louis again, before closing his eyes and shaking his head frantically.

Harry follows his example, and Niall is about to as well, but Louis grabs a hold of him first. He pulls the cupid aside, giving him his very best glare.

“This,” he hisses, “is _your fault_.”

Louis wants to punch the grin off of Niall’s face.

“What’s my fault?” Niall asks innocently. He is full of shit, Louis decides.

“You know very well.”

“Do I, though?”

What’s that even supposed to _mean_? “You and your stupid effect, Niall! Don’t play stupid.”

Niall’s smile only widens even further. “What effect?”

Louis sputters, at loss for words. “The stupid attraction effect you warned us about!”

“I don’t have a ‘stupid attraction effect’, Louis, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But—“ Louis stares at him in panic as it slowly starts to dawn upon him what Niall has done. “Yes, you have! You told us you had, you warned us about it!”

Niall shrugs. “I haven’t used any of my powers, actually. I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but it’s not true.”

Louis is going to be sick. “You—you _liar_!”

“To be fair,” Niall figures, “ _you’re_ the one who told _me_ nothing would ever happen even if I did use powers, anyway. So who’s the actual liar here?”

Definitely the worst thing that has ever happened to Louis. Without a doubt.

When Niall and Louis get in line next to Harry and Liam—Louis making sure he’s as far away from the spirit as possible—Harry’s back is remarkably stiff and Louis understands he must’ve heard the conversation, as well.

Louis pulls Liam away from Harry to stand between himself and Niall, since Liam is practically the only person in here he, at the moment, doesn’t completely refuse to hold hands with. Liam doesn’t protest, which is good. Louis wouldn’t listen, anyway.

“Let’s just go, yeah?” he mutters.

And they do.

 

~

 

Louis is under water.

His head is dimmed and puzzled from the icing cold pressure, his lungs are sore and his tongue is dry and salty, and he wants to breathe but he can’t.

Louis isn’t sure about what exactly is going on, or how he ended up here, or what he’s supposed to do, or how long he actually is deep down there, fighting his way upwards and away from the cold, pulling streams below. He doesn’t really know anything, except that he wants away from there.

Which is why he keeps kicking and pushing himself towards what he hopes to be the surface, struggling and feeling his body weaken by the second from the lack of air. Until, there’s a big hand firmly gripping around his bicep, determinedly and roughly pulling him along towards a different direction. Louis lets them, his head way too light to fight back or even comprehend what’s going on.

What he does see, however, is how he’s dragged away from the darkness and he watches things as they get increasingly brighter, and soon enough, his head is above the surface, coughing and sputtering and breathing desperately.

They’re not that far away from the shore, and a voice just commands “swim, Louis,” in his ear, and Louis doesn’t know what to do but oblige, pushing his aching bones to move him forward one last time.

Then they’re finally washing up on the shore, Louis digging his trembling fingers into the sand as he crawls on all fours, and he doesn’t stop even though his body is aching all the way out to the tips of his toes, until the sand under him is dry and stubbornly sticking to his wet skin.

He raises a hand to shove his floppy fringe out of his face, stretching out his back to shake his wings dry.

Which is when he realizes something is incredibly, undoubtedly, out of this world, _wrong_.

“ _Oh my_ —“ his eyes widen in panic. “My wings! My _wings_! Where the _fuck_ are they?”

Behind him, the other three are working their way up as well, Liam following Louis’ example by just slumping down in the sand, while Harry and Niall are working their way up on two feet again, shaking their hair out of their face.

“Wow,” Niall puffs enthusiastically. “That was a rush. Everyone alright?”

No. Louis is not alright.

“My wings are _gone_!” he shrieks frantically. “They’re—I—what’s going on? _I want them back_!”

There’s a hand clapping his shoulder, and Louis looks up to see Niall sit down beside him, bizarrely calm about the whole situation. His smile is so wide the corners of his mouth might as well stretch all the way around to the back of his head.

“That’s because you’re on Earth, Louis. Looks like Fate is doing the job I’ve been struggling with.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> um so this update came later than expected. probably bc i had a major writer's block for like three days. sigh.
> 
> BUT it is here now and yay?? there is kissing?? and communication?? which is nice. i hope. 
> 
> ALSO it has come to my attention that i have never mentioned any kind of soundtrack music despite having a playlist of roughly 100 songs that i use as inspiration????? what is this.  
> so in case anyone is interested or need some nice music to listen to, harry's character is based on 'polaroid - imagine dragons' (such a great song i cry) and another song i've been listening to non stop for weeks which inspires the story is 'delicate - janet devlin'.  
> so. there you go. i have finished my duty.
> 
> anywayyyy next update should be up within 1 - 2 weeks depending on how busy i am and thank you very much for reading :)) kudos and comments make me the happiest person xxx
> 
> AND if you want please hit me up on my tumblr @tequiladimples. (which, yes. i have changed url for the first time since i got it like 3 years ago. well done, emilia.)


	13. chapter 11; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Fuck, is the only thing Louis can bring himself to think. _Fuck_.

This is can’t be happening. This can’t be real. He must’ve been thrown into the deepest, darkest pits of Wonderland, because there is no way this could be anything but a vicious nightmare.

It’s so wrong, not being able to feel the small dents in his back where his wings are usually grown out and strong, it feels absolutely bizarre to come up drenched from an ocean and not be feeling wet drops running down the soaked, spun silver material, keeping him balanced. He looks over to Niall and—unwillingly—to Harry, and he confirms that none of them has suffered this horrifying loss of magical traits, of course, because their bodies are _designed_ for Earth, and Louis envies them so much it hurts.

_We only function, Louis, in places that hold magic. Without it we are useless._

His mother’s words ring in his ears, and his head spins faster and faster with each passing microsecond.

He’s _human_.

“I’m human,” he breathes out in terror.

“You are,” Niall pats his back once again. “If it makes you feel better, there are no major changes in your appearance except the, uh, wings. And also, I think you’ve grown a good five inches at the least.”

Louis fills his lungs to the brink with air and lets it out slowly, trying to calm himself down and grow accustomed to the absurd situation. He’s grown, Niall claims, and when Louis looks at him he realizes Niall’s right. The cupid, who used to be around the same height as Louis, is now several inches shorter. That’s a good thing. Let’s focus on the positive things.

He forces his ice cold legs to start moving forward, looking around for a sign of human life. He doesn’t see anyone, but then again he wouldn’t really call this suitable weather for a swim anyway. Louis looks up towards the thickly grey sky. Either the clouds are on their way off, or they’re incoming. So there’s a fifty percent chance rain could start falling at any second.

Niall is right by Louis the entire time, still cheery and lively as always. Louis can’t help but admire it a little bit. They have after all just been close to an icy, cold death. Not even Louis’ mood can be on top after that.

Not that Louis is rarely moody. He can be a nightmare when he wants to, and he takes full pride in it. He sees it as a good quality. It brings a bit of character, he thinks. Besides, he has to be ready to bring out harsh words at any minute, because he’s absolutely positive that if he didn’t have the ability, people would walk all over him all the time. He’s lost track of how many times people have tried. Breakable little fairy, sweet, happy, gullible creature. Louis can’t be just that if he ever wants respect.

Not that he’d change it. He’s proud of the surprised looks he manages to press upon condescending creatures’ faces through the years.

He doesn’t get any further before his thoughts are roughly cut off.

“Are those— _wings_?”

Both boys jump several feet up in the air at the unfamiliar voice, swiftly turning around to see who’s caught them. Niall folds his small wings in behind his back in racing speed. A tiny part of Louis’ mind is a little jealous of that ability, it would be very useful in certain situations.

The heavy majority of his mind is way too busy focusing on the alien boy in front of them, looking just as blown away by their presence as they are by his.

Louis is really growing tired of the universes’ shit, because this is the third unbelievably attractive male stranger standing before him during startling circumstances in a very short amount of time. It’s like Fate’s way of telling Louis he should take his ego down a notch.

For a moment he’s way too mesmerized by warm, brown eyes and chiseled facial features to actually comprehend what’s happening, too caught up in black leather clinging to thin arms and slim fingers clutching around a thick book, but then he snaps out of it and realizes this guy just saw Niall’s _wings_ , and fear colder than salt water in January starts seeping through his chest and down to his stomach.

What does this mean? What happens if an Earth Human sees magic? There must be consequences. There must be. Oh god. What if it’s a life time in the Underworld? Is this how it ends? _Fuck_.

This is how it ends, this is _it_ , Louis should’ve just stayed in Grimm to begin with, he shouldn’t even had picked a fight with Harry in the first place, how could he be so _stupid_ —

He snaps his head over to Niall, looking for support, for a way out. He’s extremely dumfounded when he realizes the cupid doesn’t look very terrified at all. His eyes are widened in definite shock, but it’s rather a kind of… Amazement.

 _Amazement_? Louis is ninety-nine percent sure they’re doomed to death, and Niall just looks _amazed_?

But then Niall breathes out a “ _Zayn_?” and it all clicks into place.

Louis decides that if Zayn’s personality were half as pretty as his complexion, Liam definitely did well with his soulmate, because this guy, he looks—he looks _magical_. He’s simply too attractive to be only human, Louis would be absolutely positive, and yet. Here he is. A human.

Zayn doesn’t respond immediately, just lets his eyes wander from Niall to Louis and back to Niall again a couple of times, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Louis understands him; he’d be pretty confused as well.

“I… I am awake, right?” he asks slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Niall breathes before clearing his throat subtly. “Why—wouldn’t you be?”

The new boy looks down on his feet and buries his hands in the pockets of his washed out jeans.

“Just tell me if those were wings or if I’m crazy,” he mumbles.

Louis doesn’t know a lot about rules on Earth, but he’s absolutely certain they’re breaking so many of them it’s not even funny as Niall nods, slowly folding his wings out again while carefully watching Zayn’s facial expression.

Zayn closes his eyes tightly, breathing slowly in and out a couple of times and massaging his temples.

“Can you please explain what’s going on? How do you know who I am?” he pleads lowly, and it sounds calm enough but Louis can definitely hear the distress he’s trying to push aside. “Because I think…. Am I going crazy?”

Niall is about to answer something soothing, but he’s interrupted before he even had the chance to begin when another creature joins their little conversation.

Liam seems to finally have regained control over his freezing legs, and succeeded with wobblingly move them all the way up to the other three. His breath is ragged and his hand is trembling and cold when he puts it on Louis’ shoulder for comfort. He doesn’t look up at Zayn, but rather locks his exhausted gaze with Louis’ first, confusion evident on his face.

“I almost _drowned_ ,” he declares, but the way his eyelids are hanging tiredly kind of takes the firmness of his words away.

“I know,” Louis tries to comfort. Whether that’s the best reply to have the desired effect still stands unanswered, but he decides it’ll do. “But you didn’t.”

Liam nods shakily, seeming a little calmer for a few seconds before he remembers his next issue.

“Louis,” he mumbles. “Why are we not magic?”

“Because we’re on Earth,” Louis explains and pets Liam’s damp head lightly. “Looks like we’re going to have to be without our powers for a while.”

Liam frowns.

“Earth?” he echoes. “That’s. That’s where we wanted to go, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis assures him.

Niall is beaming beside them. “I should’ve understood that Fate always finds a way around everything. This is way too good to be some kind of coincidence.”

Louis could argue with this. He doesn’t really agree with him having to lose his wings being a ‘good’ thing, no matter what comes with it. He’d rather try and tuck them away for the stay or something, hide, maybe, than having to do without them. He feels out of place without them. So tied down.

He bites his lip though, to force the remarks to stay silent on his tongue, and settles for writing an angry note to Fate in his mind. That’ll do for now.

Liam still hasn’t looked up right in front of him, so he’s still unaware of the new person watching him with wide, curious eyes. Louis exchanges a mildly stressed look with Niall, wondering what exactly will happen when Liam does notice, given the state he’s in.

“I’m really tired,” Liam manages to get out in-between heavy breaths. “Can we just—rest?”

Louis is about to answer something reassuring and slightly patronizing, but he’s cut off before he gets there, because Zayn parts his lips to speak.

“I’ve seen you in my dream.”

Liam immediately snaps his head up, surprised by the unfamiliar voice blurting out such an unexpected thing. The moment their brown eyes lock, Liam goes completely still.

It’s terribly quiet for several seconds, Liam and Zayn just staring at each other in shock while Louis and Niall move attentive eyes between the pair.

And then Liam’s knees go weak and he grips tighter around Louis shoulders as he whines out a “oh, for _god’s_ sake,” shutting his eyes tight in something very close to agony.

Louis thinks that this is a face of a man who’s finally had too much.

Understandable.

Louis stumbles a little from the sudden pressure, gripping under Liam’s arms to support him.

“Wow, now,” he says, petting Liam’s head softly. “It’s all right, Liam. Deep breaths, yeah? In and out. We can do this.”

To be quite honest, Louis isn’t entirely sure Liam can do this.

“Can we—sit down?” Liam splutters breathily, making it very clear Louis’ halfhearted breathing exercises had no effect.

“Is this really what you want his first impression of you to be like?” Louis scolds, like an unhappy mother, but he does lower Liam to the ground. Liam slumps down like a massive weight is on his shoulders, forcing him to bury his hands in the sand and hang his head tiredly.

Zayn’s beautiful face has gone from amazement and confusion to concern. “Is he… Okay?”

“I just need a minute,” Liam breathes.

“He just needs a minute,” Louis repeats, shooting Zayn a reassuring grin that aches in his cheeks. “He’ll be just fine, this is just a little overwhelming for him—surely you understand.”

Zayn barely seems to listen to Louis’ kind convincing, worried frown firmly set on the shaken shape shifter on the ground.

“Hey,” he tries softly, leaning down to come closer to Liam’s face which is currently stubbornly facing the ground. “Is everything alright?”

Liam’s eyes fly open again with remarkable speed at the realization of Zayn speaking to him, and his entire body jolts upwards, he snaps his head up to look at Zayn.

Unfortunately, Zayn leans down a little too far a little too early, and Liam manages to bang his head straight into Zayn’s nose, causing him to fall backwards with a pained hiss and a hand covering his face.

If Liam looked distressed before, he looks terrified now.

“ _Shit_!” he exclaims, flying up on his feet, the previous unsteadiness of his legs obviously forgotten about. “I am _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Zayn reaches out a hand to wave it dismissively, taking another two steps back. His brow is furrowed in agony and when Louis looks at Liam, the shape shifter looks so utterly horrified Louis fears he might just implode.

“I’m sorry,” Liam tries again hopelessly. “God I’m sorry, are you—are you bleeding?”

Zayn shakes his head quickly, tentatively removing his hand from his face to bop his nose carefully with his palm a couple of times, checking if it actually is alright. It seems to be, luckily for him—and for Liam’s health as well, probably.

“I’m—ah, I’m fine, I’m okay,” Zayn assures, locking his and Liam’s gazes with sincerity. “Really.”

Liam stills looks anxious, but his spine unstiffens and his shoulders sink down until almost normal height.

“I—okay,” he breathes. “Okay. Sorry.”

Zayn can’t help but let a small smile play on his lips, and he nods softly. “What’s your name?”

“Liam,” Liam gets out. “My name is Liam.”

“Hi Liam,” Zayn attempts tentatively. “I’m Zayn.”

“I know.” Liam stops himself, looking horrified at letting such a thing slip out with such eagerness, and his neck flushes red. “Uh—I mean—“

“We should probably talk?” Niall cuts off before Liam has the opportunity to torture himself even more. “Like, really talk about this whole—situation. It’s not exactly just something you get over with in ten minutes.”

Zayn scratches his neck and nods, straining himself to keep his breath as steady as possible.

“I figured that much,” he agrees.

Louis is so torn. He’s absolutely positive they’re not allowed to do this. One hundred percent sure that this would be breaking all sorts of rules, rules that could get them killed at worst. Niall shouldn’t be doing this. And, besides that, Louis has never felt this uncomfortable with his own body before in his life. It’s so _limited_ , so heavy and earth bound, and his balance is so rubbed he can feel his stomach twisting with every step he takes. He doesn’t want this. He needs the magic back, he needs his wings.

“Do you might have a place where we could do this?” Louis urges, fidgeting nervously.

Zayn looks considering. “I would take you to my flat, but I think my flat mate’s home and he’s probably having… Guests. So it’s probably not the best option.”

“Alright. Let’s just do it here, then,” Louis suggests. “Sit down in the sand and have a nice chat.”

“It’s going to be cold,” Zayn figures. “This is London, after all,” he adds, as if that’s something Louis’ supposed to understand the point of.

“Then—make up a fire, knit blankets, I don’t care,” he whines. “Just get it over with so we can move on from here—“

“—We’re _not_ moving on from here,” Niall interrupts him promptly with a rigorous look at Louis. “Not for a while, I’d say. We have plenty of time.”

A chilly blow of wind sweeps through right at that moment, causing the hairs on Louis’ arms to stand up and his teeth to clapper harshly.

“Fire,” he mutters, figuring he could argue the point with Niall at a more fitting occasion. “Let’s make a fire. And where is the closest place to get food? Because I’m fucking starving.”

So he gets a little more grumpy when he’s tired and hungry, so what? He’s positive everyone does at some level. Louis’ got a better reason than most, honestly, what with the unfortunate world change to top it off and everything. It’s justified.

Zayn seems to contemplate this for a minute, before getting a look of enlightenment in his otherwise dark eyes.

“There is a small fireplace over there where we could make one up. We could make s’mores,” he says, plump lips widening into a grin. “I think we should make s’mores. We could take the tube to a grocery store or something, kill some time to get to know each other a little better.”

Louis does not have time for this. “What the hell are s’mores?”

Zayn stops his planning abruptly to give Louis a proper stare.

“You’ve never had s’mores?” he clarifies, wide-eyed. His eyes are so pretty Louis almost forgets that he’s supposed to answer a question.

He can only imagine how hard of a time Liam is having.

“No,” he frowns. “Is it a human invention?”

Zayn looks horrified. “How have you _lived_?”

Louis just shrugs. It’s quiet for a while, Zayn taking this in, moving his eyes back and forth between Louis and Liam in awed disbelief.

“Have you… Ever been to a grocery store, then?” he asks carefully.

He receives two blank stares, and he whistles, clearly taken aback.

“Wow.” He drags out the word. “I’m—I’m sure we’ll clear up how that’s even possible later, yeah?”

“Sure.” Louis is a tiny bit intrigued. What is this grocery store? Why is it so necessary to Zayn?

Zayn nods, breathing heavily. It must be a lot to take in, this. Louis is kind of fascinated with how calm he manages to remain. Wonderland must’ve fucked him up really bad, or he’s just a little insane to begin with. Louis wouldn’t know.

“Okay, so—Liam, yeah?” Zayn points at Liam, who merely nods, eyes still blown wide when he looks at the new boy. Zayn nods as well and turns to Louis. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Louis,” Louis introduces himself, putting on a blinding smile for best effect. “And this is Niall.”

Zayn returns the smile timidly, and then swoops his gaze over to set on something behind them.

“What about you, then?” he asks lightly.

Louis, for the first time since Pantheon, turns to look where Zayn is aiming his attention and sees Harry, whom he hasn’t even realized was standing there, and he’s suddenly curious as to why he’s so awfully quiet.

It becomes quite clear that something’s incredibly, seriously wrong instantly, judging by the frank, undisguised horror in the spirit’s eyes. Louis almost flinches back in mere surprise, because he’s seen Harry upset before, he’s seen him bashful and dejected, but he has never seen Harry look scared.

It’s uncomfortable, seeing him like that. His entire body is stiff and his eyes are so wide, and Louis has to fight to not let his guard down once again. He knows what could happen now, and he’s still so confused he has a headache just thinking about it, but under no circumstances will he ever risk it again.

There is no ‘hello’ from Harry. There is no hand shaking, there’s not even a tight smile or a cocked eyebrow. There is just a whole lot of shocked staring, as if he’s forgotten how to move his limbs.

Then he breaks out of it.

“Excuse me,” he mutters, before briskly turning on his heels and hurrying off before anyone even gets to say a word.

Everyone’s staring after him with furrowed brows, not saying a word for a while. Confusion is undoubtedly thick in the air.

It’s Zayn who awkwardly breaks the silence.

“So my guess is he doesn’t like me very much…?”

“No!” The other three erupt into protests, eager to assure Zayn that that’s absolutely not the case, even though no one is sure. “No, no, that’s just Harry being Harry, it’s nothing personal—“

“I’m sure he’ll come back,” Louis says, patting his arm. “Harry’s a little irrational, if you will. Leave it for now.”

He’s not too sure of his own words, though. A part of him really wants to run after and demand an explanation, but he can’t do that. Louis has decided not to talk to Harry ever again. If that were to ever happen in the future, Harry would have to be the one coming crawling back with apologies, because Louis is certain it’s all the spirit’s fault.

Liam sighs.

“I’ll go after and try finding out?” he proposes, glancing at Louis especially, as if he wants some kind of permission, as if he’s expecting Louis to go ‘no, I’ll do it’ and run off before anyone has the chance to blink. As if Harry’s somehow Louis’ forte, as if there’s some kind of connection.

He’s not going to do that, though. And that’s not true. Harry is not going to be his problem anymore.

So he shrugs, putting on his best nonchalant face. “It’s not my problem, is it? We’ll be leaving soon anyway, he’ll have time to get over whatever it is.”

Liam winces at the thought of having to leave, the corners of his mouth sinking and Louis immediately feels bad.

“I’ll go and talk to him then,” he confirms, before stumbling off towards the spot Harry has now sat down in.

Louis’ stomach quivers a little like it does when he knows he’s done something wrong but doesn’t apologize for it. He scratches his neck loosely and turns to stare right into the disapproving blueness of Niall’s eyes. Damn it.

“Zayn, would you excuse us for a second?” he asks, very politely and passive aggressively, and Louis gulps. When Niall loses his smile it’s a sign of something serious going down, he’s been able to understand that much during the short time they’ve known each other.

Zayn just nods a little in mild confusion, and so Niall pulls Louis with him a few meters away, not a lot unlike Louis’d done back by the portal in Venus’ chapel.

“Why do you keep talking about leaving?” Niall demands as soon as they’re out of earshot, and his usually blinding smile is nowhere to be seen. Louis flinches uncomfortably.

“Because we are?” he replies, raising a questioning eyebrow. They are, right? They must be.

“Are you kidding?” Niall hisses. “No, we’re not!”

What?

Louis blinks once, twice, three times, trying to find words. What does Niall mean they’re not leaving? They _have_ to leave! Louis is not going to live with this. He can’t.

“ _Why not_?” he presses, slightly frantic.

“Because we’re on Earth! _Zayn_ is here, Louis. I’ve been struggling and fighting for this very union to happen for so long. I’m not going to abandon what could be the only chance I’m going to get to pair them up. This where we are now, and we’re staying as long as it’s not life threatening. Possibly.”

Louis is going to pass out any minute.

“Niall,” he pleads. “I don’t like it here!”

“You have been here for a total of twenty minutes, you don’t get to decide that yet. And if you desperately want to, I could tell you how to find the next portal and you could keep going on your own, but I really don’t think you want that, do you?”

That silences Louis effectively, and he resigns to biting his lip and avoiding Niall’s gaze. No, he kind of really doesn’t want that. He’s grown ridiculously attached to this thing they’re doing, no matter how little he likes it. It’s been making him feel a little less small and a little more like a hero.

Niall seems to understand that’s what Louis’ thinking of even without an audible reply from the fairy, and he nods slowly.

“We’re going to stay here,” he declares slowly, expression stating that this is not a suggestion. “Because Earth is safe, and three of us know our way around it, if we bring Zayn along to any of our magical universes our punishment would be a never-ending life in the Underworld, and lastly I don’t know, do you want to live with separating two soulmates on your conscience, anyway?”

No. Louis doesn’t. Especially not with the Sophia incident still nagging at the back of his mind.

So he decides there and then, to push it all aside for now as good as he can, and do this for Liam. Because he likes Liam. Because Liam deserves this more than anyone he knows, probably.

“Fine,” he states. “For Liam. But I don’t have to like it.”

That seems to do the trick to put an end to Niall’s stream of serious facial expressions, and he breaks into a wide smile.

“Don’t worry, Louis, I have a feeling you will,” he beams. “Now, let’s go to the grocery store.”

“What even is a grocery store, anyway?” Louis mutters, wandering along.

Niall doesn’t answer, so the conversation ends there and they get back to Zayn smoothly, reassuring smiles on their faces. Zayn returns them with one of his own, and then gets right back to watching Liam trying to speak to Harry. And failing, by the looks of it.

Harry still hasn’t moved an inch from his place. Louis watches him with mixed emotions as Liam tries to communicate with him, evidently not succeeding as Harry doesn’t react in the slightest. Louis finds himself wanting to hurry down there and scold Harry for being childish and tell him to snap out of it. He reminds himself sternly that he’s not speaking to Harry anymore. Lecturing him is not his job.

It’s obvious that Liam is on the verge of giving up, and when he finally does it’s with a heavy sigh running through his entire body, and he gets up with shoulders slumping in defeat.

“There’s nothing that even lures out the smallest reaction from him,” he tells the other boys when he reaches them. “I think we’ll have to go without him.”

That does awaken something ugly in Louis’ chest. No one knows what Harry’ll do if they leave him here.

“What if he leaves?” he can’t help but protest. “If we don’t know what the problem is, we don’t know how he’ll deal with it. What if we come back and he’s gone?”

Niall raises an eyebrow.

“You’re more than welcome to try and talk to him if you want, Louis.”

“No!” Louis snaps quickly. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him alone when we know so little. What if he hurts himself?”

“Does that matter to you, then?”

Niall’s voice is unforgiving and blunt, but what makes it so awful is that it’s not _mean_. It’s a genuine question, as if Niall’s trying to figure them out. Louis doesn’t want Niall to figure anything out. He doesn’t want Niall to find connections and do stupid overanalyzations of their behavior. He doesn’t _want_ to.

And so he wants to protest, but he can’t, because there’s nothing to defend himself from. He’d just make himself look guilty and foolish, and in denial. Which, he might be the latter but he also might not be at all. And he doesn’t need anyone else analyzing his feelings and intentions.

So he realizes, he has no other choice but to let it be.

“I’m not a bad person, I don’t want anyone to hurt,” he mutters so quietly he wonders if anyone even heard him, before speaking up properly. “Alright, then. Lead the way, Zayn.”

 

~

 

The grocery store is called Tesco, and Louis is in awe.

He hasn’t quite stopped being in awe since they left the beach, if he’s honest. Zayn had given Niall his leather jacket to cover up his wings, and then they’d been taking off towards the ‘underground’—which is not at all some kind of doomsday place for lost souls, but a way of traveling _under the ground_ , Louis notes fascinatedly—and after the underground, into town and to the bespoken supermarket.

It’s all so overwhelming to Louis. There are just so _much_ of everything, so much people and so much noise and so much stuff and—so much _food_. So much food, all collected in _one place_. So it’s totally understandable that Louis is amazed.

He’s just walking around behind Zayn with Liam on his right and Niall behind them, wide-eyed making his impression.

Maybe Earth isn’t so bad, after all. A place containing grocery stores can’t be a source of too much evil. Maybe Louis can live with this for a while.

“Okay…” Zayn casually strolls down one of the filled aisles, looking for something. “We’re going to need graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate.”

Louis only knows what one of those things are, but he figures if chocolate is involved then it must be good. His mood is a lot better now than before, and now he’s just excited. Things are definitely looking up.

He looks over to Liam, who’s wistfully staring at Zayn’s back as the boy picks out a plastic package with white, fluffy content from one of the shelves.

“He’s so _pretty_ , Louis,” the shape shifter whines lowly. “What do I do?”

Louis can’t suppress a grin. “Shouldn’t you be asking Niall this? He’s our expert, after all.”

“I _have_ , and he won’t tell me anything.” Louis swears Liam is genuinely pouting like a six year old, and he snickers.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to figure it out on your own. But if it makes you feel better, he seems just as enamored with you.”

Liam obviously tries to hide a smile by tucking his face into his shoulder, but he’s not fooling Louis. “You think so?”

Louis grins widely and pats Liam’s back. “I really do.”

“Liam!” Zayn suddenly calls out a few steps in front of them. “Can you, ah—help me for a bit?”

Liam instantly snaps his head up, once again in awe over the fact that Zayn chose to acknowledge his existence, and abandons Louis to walk up to him. Zayn is currently holding graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows, and a pack of napkins in his hands and it’s looking rather difficult. He should’ve taken one of those weird plastic baskets by the entrance, Louis thinks.

Before he has a chance to react, Niall is by his side instead, a smug smirk on his lips as he watches Liam walk.

“Wait for it…” he whispers.

Louis is about to ask what exactly he’s supposed to be waiting for, but just as he opens his mouth, Liam just _trips over absolutely nothing_ , and he knocks into Zayn, making him drop all of his goods on the floor.

“Is Liam actually this clumsy or is that you just fucking around with him?” Louis mumbles, suppressing a smile. “Because this shouldn’t be physically possible.”

Niall snickers. “I am merely doing my job. And it’s fantastic.”

Liam—obviously—starts apologizing profusely before they’ve even reached the floor.

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” Zayn calms Liam through the endless stream of sorry’s. “Is it like a thing of yours to try and knock out new people you meet?”

His smile is crooked and playful, and Louis is almost positive Liam will ruin this attempt at almost-flirty banter with more apologies.

Liam definitely surprises, though, as he blurts out:

“Only pretty ones.”

It’s obviously not planned and Louis can imagine how wide Liam’s eyes must be with terror in that very moment, but the comment makes Zayn blush and look away, smile nipping at his pink lips. Louis counts it as a victory.

“Nice one, Liam,” Niall whistles, visibly impressed.

Louis wipes his eyes delicately.

“My boy,” he sighs, voice dramatically trembling. “Growing up and making boys blush. It brings tears to my eyes.”

“Truly,” Niall nods, putting a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Before you know it they’re going to go on dates and share clothes and blow each other in club bathrooms.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Niall just laughs as they start moving towards the pair who’s managed to collect the things and are slowly standing up again.

“You got all you need?” he asks them, eyes glinting with amusement.

Liam sends him a subtle glare and Zayn nods.

“Yes, I think this is it.”

Louis lets his eyes wander along the aisle one last time out of pure curiosity, but he stops at a particularly intriguing thing, narrowing his eyes.

“ _Nutella_? What’s that?” he asks.

“Oh,” Zayn raises his eyebrows. “It’s like a chocolate and hazelnut cream. You put it on sandwiches and in pastries and stuff. It’s really good.”

“Hold on.” Louis can’t let this go. This is an astounding invention. This is—this could be Louis’ favorite thing. He loves chocolate and he loves hazelnuts. “It’s like… The consistency is like sticky cookie batter? But chocolate and hazelnut flavored?”

Louis loves cookie batter.

“Uh. Sure. I guess you could say that,” Zayn replies, visibly amused by the fairy’s awe. “I could buy a jar for you if you want?”

Louis dropped jaw and glossy eyes in amazement is enough of an answer.

 

~

 

If people look at him weirdly as he clutches a jar of Nutella tightly to his chest on the tube ride back to the beach, Louis doesn’t care.

 

~

 

Harry hasn’t moved. He’s still sitting at the exact place they left him when they get back, and Louis sighs out a breath of relief he hasn’t even realized he’s been holding.

“I’ll go and get the fire ready,” Zayn says, looking hesitantly at Liam. “Do—do you want to help me?”

Liam’s eyes go wide, as if it’s absolutely unthinkable to him that Zayn would want his help even though that’s exactly what already happened at Tesco. “I—Of course! I mean. Yes. I’d like that.”

Zayn just smiles, and they both start walking in a comfortable pace over to the small fireplace a few meters away. Their arms touch ever so slightly at times, and Louis sighs, content.

“Young love is such a beautiful thing,” he states dreamily. Niall hums.

“Theirs certainly is,” he agrees. “So, um. It’s nice to see Harry hasn’t done anything, right?”

Louis knows where this is going and he’s not playing the game.

“Please don’t.”

Niall groans and locks his fingers together in a pleading gesture. “Oh, come on, Louis, at least try?”

Louis draws his finger around in swirly patterns in the sand. “I can’t see why you don’t just try.”

“We both know he won’t listen to me.”

“Send Zayn then, maybe that’ll do.”

“ _Louis_.”

“I’m not doing it, Niall!”

Niall groans in frustration, running both hands through his hair.

“When are you going to stop wimping around and admit you actually care for him, Louis? Because I’ve known you for barely twelve hours and I’m already done with it.”

“ _Fine_!” Louis snaps, standing up abruptly and glaring at the cupid. “I’ll fucking try, just shut up about it. But don’t blame me if things get worse.”

With that, he staggers off towards the other end of the beach where Harry is currently sitting, quiet and completely still, watching the waves calmly wash into the shore. He’s trying to push aside the anger and frustration that came with Niall so bluntly calling him out. He’s making this whole thing a way too big deal.

It’s just that Niall _sees_ so much. Liam has been peacefully oblivious and unquestioning, and that fits Louis perfectly. This is—this is different. This is new and Louis doesn’t want to face what his relation to Harry means, he just wants to keep going as if it’s normal and ignore questions, and Niall makes that so hard.

Louis shakes his head and breathes deeply a couple of times, and then he sits down next to Harry in the damp sand.

He doesn’t know what to say. Still really doesn’t want to talk to Harry, if he’s completely honest, doesn’t even know if he’s able to properly look him in the eye ever again, so he just sits down, trying to make himself as small as possible. Which probably is a first for him.

Harry doesn’t even bat an eyelid, just keeps staring at the horizon which is growing increasingly golden while the sky above is fading from lavender into a dark purple.

Louis fumbles after a suitable phrase to initiate the conversation. Something humble, yet straight forward and stern. Something light-hearted, yet serious. Something that would make Harry think.

“I really like sunsets,” is what he ends up with.

Harry still won’t look at him, but Louis can see his eyebrow raise. “Okay.”

“It’s just one of those things, you know? Like, it’s constant. I mean, it’s all been so messy lately. We’ve been so roughly tossed between different circumstances and conflicts and met new people in new worlds and seen how different creatures live their lives, and it’s like, it’s exciting, but—you lose grip, I think, of consistency. You lose grip.” Louis continues rambling to fill up the empty space of silence. “But the sun still always sets somewhere. Time always passes in the same secure pace no matter what we do, or how we perceive it. Nature always keeps going, regardless of messy or confusing or hard things around you are. It never stops, it never flies. It ticks on steadily. And I think—I think that’s really nice.”

He quietens for a moment, and Harry snorts. He still won’t look anywhere but straight in front of him.

“How very wise if you. Was there a point, or…?”

“No, not really,” Louis replies honestly. “I’m just really enthusiastic about nature.”

“You would.” Harry rolls his eyes, but Louis swears there’s amusement faintly playing on his face. Unwillingly, because he contains it immediately, going back to looking empty of emotion, and Louis swallows.

“So,” he starts, but Harry cuts him off right away.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says tiredly. “Please leave me alone.”

“It’s funny that you know, because I don’t,” Louis snaps. “I had decided to not talk to you. But apparently, you’re being frustratingly difficult so Niall and Liam forced me.”

Harry doesn’t even blink. “Why have you decided to not talk to me?”

He’s doing it deliberately to avoid the actual subject in need of discussion, but Louis’ ears still heat up.

“You _know why_.”

“Ah. Bit of an overreaction, though, don’t you think?”

“I do not.”

“You’re attractive, I’m attractive. Big deal. It’s just a kiss, anyway.”

Louis flinches a little at the mention, and he can’t help but feel a little hurt by the triviality of which Harry spoke about the incident. Obviously it was nothing big, especially not to Harry, who Louis would imagine merely sees stuff like that as a way to pass time, but still. He doesn’t want to be a ‘just’ anything to anyone. Even if it’s someone like Harry. He needs to always be spectacular.

He’s determined not to let that show, though.

“What’s bugging you?” he asks quietly, trying to sound as hospitable as possible.

Harry lets the sound of softly crashing waves fill the space between them for a while, and Louis watches him clench his jaw as he contemplates what to do.

“I can’t be around Zayn,” he says at last, flatly.

“What?” Louis stares. “Why?”

“That’s not important. It’s not an option to keep Zayn around while I’m there, and if you still want him with you so badly I’ll be just fine on my own.”

“Of course it’s fucking important!” Louis can’t help but raise his voice, growing more upset by the minute. “Am I supposed to just walk up to him like ‘no offence, but even though you just found your soulmate I’m going to need you to leave because Harry said so’? I’m not doing that!”

“Well, too fucking bad for you,” Harry snaps back, “figure something out because I’m not doing this.”

“What did Zayn ever do to you? He seems nice!”

“You don’t get it. That’s not the issue.”

“Then what _is it_?”

“He’s one of _my humans_.” Harry at last lets his guard down, snapping his head in Louis’ direction to glare at him furiously, and it would be terrifying if he didn’t look so desperate at the same time. “He went on a trip with a couple of friends to the Greek’s territory of Earth once. I’ve _worked_ with him, Louis, I’ve—I’ve seen all the ugly little cracks and creases of his mind, I’ve felt his entire life hurt so badly he couldn’t even be free from it on an excursion he went on just to _enjoy_ —I’ve known all his memories and darkest secrets, I’ve entered his life to cause him pain and left before I got to know him and _now_ —“

His voice breaks on the last vowel and he looks away, humiliation evident in the way his shoulders slump.

“You’ve never really faced the consequences of your job, have you?” Louis asks slowly, carefully, as realization dawns upon him.

Harry scoffs. “I’ve never had to.”

He’s never had to. Louis ponders this statement with a little confusion, but also a hint of comprehension. Because that would make sense, maybe. That Harry hasn’t felt bad about his actions so far, not because he purely, simply and horribly enjoys pain, but because he’s never seen the bigger picture.

It doesn’t—it doesn’t excuse anything, god, but it’s something Louis can work with. It’s something Louis can use to come closer and help him in the right way.

“Please don’t run from it, then,” is what Louis says.

“I have to,” Harry whispers. “You can’t get attached to your clients. Especially not with my job, do you know what would happen if I sympathized with every single person I had to work with? I’d _implode_.”

“You haven’t seen the way Liam looks at him. I’m afraid we have no choice but to keep him around, Harry. Besides, I think… I think it’d be a good thing for you, maybe.”

“A good thing for me?” Harry bores his slightly panicked gaze into Louis’ own with disbelief. “You don’t get it—Zayn’s life _sucks_ , Louis. He’s an orphan. No one knows who his actual parents are. He’s been passed on through various host families, some who merely sign up to get the extra cash and then they treat him awfully. And every single time I look at his face, that’s all I see, all his worst memories and his mistakes and trauma and _pain_ and I—it would not be ‘good for me’. It just wouldn’t.”

“Maybe not that part,” Louis admits. “I understand that. But it might help to get to see him have a happy ending. Despite all that.”

Harry shuts his jaw, going completely silent. Louis can practically hear the thoughts bouncing around inside that curly head of his, and he lets him think things through in peace.

So Louis looks back out on the open ocean, counting the rolling waves as they approach, and lets himself be reminded of time once again.

It’s been quiet and uneventful for so long that Louis jerks back, startled, when Harry suddenly shoots straight up onto his feet, brushing off sand from his black jeans.

“You going to keep sitting here, then?” he asks Louis casually. His jaw is still tense and he tries to come off as arrogantly nonchalant, but Louis can still see the hint of determination in the curve of his lips.

He fights a smug smile to erupt on his face as he stands up as well, following Harry’s example and starts walking without answering the spirit. It’s simpler that way. There’s nothing more to say for now.

Harry joins them around the fire, offering Zayn a hesitant smile and a hand shake, and Niall mouths a ‘thank you’ around a big smile to Louis, as if Louis is some sort of miracle worker.

And, like, Louis kind of is. He’s very aware. But there’s a feeling taking root in his ribcage making it swell up brightly, and he thinks it’s _pride_ , and that scares him a little. Being the only one who could convince Harry to break out of his mood, being the one he trusted to tell, that does something to Louis and he can’t even say it feels bad. Because it doesn’t. It feels—bloody _fantastic_ , actually, to know that someone trusts him like that.

Especially Harry, a tiny voice says in his head. Especially Harry, who doesn’t seem to trust anyone.

“So, Zayn,” Niall starts suddenly, snapping Louis out of his thoughts. “I was hoping Freyja would be able to get your conscience out of Wonderland while still making you wake up and think it was all a dream. She didn’t really seem to succeed, since you’re taking, well--our existence, as well as you are. Most people wouldn’t.”

Zayn flinches a little at the mention of Wonderland, frowning and biting his lip. “It was just… too real to be a dream. I remember too much, and too intensely. It can’t have been just a dream. I even woke up with a cut on my arm I remember getting from one of the play card’s spears, and still I was right there in my bed, in the very same position I fell asleep in. How does that _work_?”

There is a mutual widening of eyes around the fire, staring disbelievingly at Zayn, who seems very uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well. What we did,” Niall starts slowly, “was to move your mind into Wonderland. Your conscience. We couldn’t get all of you in there without causing serious imbalance since you’re an Earth human and Wonderland is built up by your people’s imagination. But, we thought that if you followed Liam, Harry and Louis when you were there we’d just figure out a way to reunite your body and mind afterwards, you know? My mother promised to help with all of that, as long as I got you in there, because then my job would be done. It didn’t go exactly as planned, though.”

Zayn doesn’t look like this made thing much clearer to him.

“Have anyone ever told you that explaining things might not be your strongest quality?” he asks, and Louis can’t help but burst out a small laugh.

“I like you,” he exclaims happily.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Don’t sass me, mate. I possess powers you could never dream of.”

“What _is_ your job?”

“It’s—“ Niall quietens, obviously thinking over what to say. He can’t really tell Zayn what his job is, Louis guesses, because Zayn would probably figure out that Liam is his soulmate. And that would probably make things forced. The chemistry wouldn’t quite be working by itself. Knowing could make it all wrong. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”

Zayn frowns. “But I was supposed to meet you all, yeah? Why?”

Niall scratches his neck, quickly coming up with some kind of lie.

“Some things that fate wants is a mystery even to us,” he at last says lightly. “I guess we’ll all see in time.”

It's not the richest lie Louis' ever heard (or told), but it doesn’t seem to faze Zayn too much. Which Louis guesses makes sense. After all, who's a mortal to question these things?

“Is it all real, then?” he asks, dropping the subject easily and quite eagerly. “The universes?”

Louis nearly passes out with distress at that because _how does Zayn even have the slightest idea_ , but Niall just nods.

“All you’ve read in books and religion studies is true. I’m from the Roman, Louis and Liam are from the Norse and Grimm, and Harry is from the Greek.”

And maybe that makes sense, then, that Zayn knows from books. Louis remembers his mother telling him that the humans on Earth still needed to know, still needed to believe, for the worlds to be able to go on. Of course there must be books for that to work properly.

Zayn looks like a little child on Christmas morning at these news. No confusion, no concern, no anxiety, just pure excitement and joy. His eyes sparkle.

“I fucking _knew it_ ,” he exclaims giddily, moving his marshmallow away from the fire to cram it in-between two graham crackers. “I—I _knew_ it was too complicated and thought out to be only stories. _Fuck_.”

He looks to the other three with expectant eyes. “Are none of you allowed to tell me what you are? Because I’d love to know. I’ve read all there is to know, I swear—nothing can shock me.”

Liam obeys first, blurting out an “I’m a shape shifter,” without even hesitating, obviously so eager to please Zayn already.

Zayn’s smile only widens, showing off his white teeth. “What kind?”

“A wolf,” Liam scratches his neck. “But I’m not too sure it fits me. I’m not fearless enough.”

“I think it fits you perfectly,” Zayn tells him gently. “You made the decision to make this trip, yes?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Liam agrees.

“Well, if that isn’t fearless I don’t know what is.”

Liam snaps his head up to lock his eyes with Zayn’s encouraging ones, and the smile that slowly breaks out over his face makes Louis’ heart quiver.

Screw everyone who’s ever tried to tell him love isn’t gentle and beautiful.

Louis is the next one, proudly stating that he’s a nature fairy. He lets a little bitterness seep through his words when speaking about his currently nonexistent wings, because he can’t help it, alright, it’s not like he’s ever been without them before. And then it’s Harry’s turn, and Louis looks up at him with concern to see the conflicted furrow of Harry’s brow. He lightly knocks his knee together with Harry’s to show some encouragement—even though he’s supposed to be indifferent, he’s not supposed to do this anymore—and Harry bites his lip.

“Um. I’m a spirit of pain,” he utters slowly, carefully watching Zayn’s reaction.

He’s right doing so, as Zayn’s interested smile dulls a little as he realizes what this means. Because if Zayn has read all there is to know about the worlds, he most definitely knows what a spirit of pain does. Even if he doesn’t know Harry’s worked with him, he knows enough to understand that Harry can read off, categorize, and use all the pain he’s ever felt with one simple gaze.

“Right.” He purses his lips. “That’s… Nice?”

“Not really, no,” Harry deadpans. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t pry.”

Zayn swallows and nods. There’s a long conversation to be held here, Louis can almost physically touch the unspoken content that desperately wants out, but it’s very obvious Zayn doesn’t want to discuss those details in front of more people than necessary, and Harry’s short answer tells a similar story from himself.

Louis thinks that if they are ever able to overcome the obstacle that this obviously is to them, they could probably be the best of friends. There must be a lot of mutual understanding between them. Louis decides to do his best to help them get along. It’d be good for both of them.

“So, uh,” Zayn starts again once the silence starts getting a little too strained. “What are you all doing here together? I mean… Liam shouldn’t even know about Earth, right? What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Niall smiles sheepishly. “Nice story, that. Our portal system is broken. We can’t control where the portals are taking us anymore.”

Zayn’s eyes widen in genuine surprise for the first time since the conversation started.

“I thought that was practically impossible?”

“Oh, believe me,” Louis mutters. “We did, too. We still have no idea how it could’ve happened, no one does.”

Zayn frowns, and pulls his thick book up from where he’s neatly put it next to him on the wooden bench he’s sitting on. Louis had been wondering as a passing thought what that book actually is, and he now sees the title, “Mythology of the Universes – A Complete Guide”. Zayn starts flipping through the pages quickly, eyes skimming over the constellation of letters and spaces.

“There’s an entire chapter on only portals here,” he explains quickly. “Their history, function, old related legends—practically all you need to know.“

“Damn,” Harry mutters, “Earth humans are getting more educated on our traveling system than we are at the University.”

Louis is kind of thinking the same. It’s almost unfair, he’d quite like a book like Zayn’s one himself. He’d read it all in one night, probably, that’s how eager he’d be. It almost irks him that Zayn seems to know more about Louis’ worlds than Louis does.

“Ah, here!” Zayn exclaims and stops at a page, pointing into his book. “You don’t think it might have something to do with the Powerhouses? Or have you controlled that already?”

Harry goes absolutely tense by Louis’ side at the exact same time as Niall lets out a drawn out “ _oh_ ”, and Louis doesn’t understand anything. He looks over to Liam for confirmation that he’s not the only one who’s incredibly confused, and he seeks peace in the way Liam’s puppy-like eyes are darting all over the place.

“ _Every world has a Powerhouse_ ,” Zayn reads. “ _The Powerhouse is a prominent place, building, or other type of impressive work that symbolizes each of all the worlds. It contains every magical power that every God and Goddess represent, binding together a force field where the magic thereby flows and flourishes from. It is the reason magic can be used in our worlds, because just like everything else you create by hand, you can’t make it out of thin air, you need basic tools and material, you need a source. Varying from world to world, the Powerhouse contains different amounts of magical powers based on what’s necessary and acceptable in that very universe. Once you’ve submitted your power to a powerhouse, it’ll stay there forever. The only exception from that rule is the lightning and electricity creating powers, which need to be adjustable since they represent the function of the portals, and the portals—as earlier mentioned—are constantly moved, removed or renewed_.”

He closes the book with a loud thud, looking at the other three expectantly. “What if someone messed up the electricity bonds?”

Harry doesn’t say a word. Niall, on the other hand, looks like someone just handed him the solution to every single one of his problems on a silver platter. That’s how wide his grin is.

“ _Zayn_!” he cries. “You’re a genius! How come no one’s looked this up before? We need to tell people to investigate this!”

“And how are we going to do that?” Harry asks, voice weirdly cold. “We’re on Earth. Who is there to ask?”

Niall’s smile drops immediately. “Fuck. You’re right about that. Shit! Seems like we might have to change our plans about staying until it’s fixed, then.”

Niall and Zayn seem too caught up in discussion of portals, and Liam seems too caught up in Zayn, to notice Harry’s weird behavior. Not Louis, though, and he turns to the spirit with narrowed eyes.

“You know so much more than you let on,” he says. It’s not close to being a question.

Harry stares firmly right back. Louis can see his jaw clench and unclench.

“I know nothing that can help us,” he replies, stressing every syllable to emphasize how final his words are. “And that’s what’s important.”

Louis huffs and shakes his head. One day, he thinks, one day he’ll squeeze the truth out of Harry.

He turns his eyes and attention back on Zayn and Niall, Zayn looking kind of dejected now.

“So you’ll have to leave sooner than you thought, then?” he confirms.

Niall nods apologetically. “I’m really sorry, Zayn. I promise I’ll find a way for us all to meet again as soon as the portals are fixed.”

There’s a slight bitter tone to the last sentence, and Louis understands that this must be so energetically draining to Niall to still have to leave sooner than planned. It’s like Fate is playing a game with him, pulling him towards his goal to then just push him right back to where he started. Louis feels a little bad for him. It can’t be easy.

Zayn nods, looking down on his hands folded in his lap. “You’re staying for a little while, though, right? Like, a couple of days, do you have that time?”

“Yes,” Louis interrupts before Niall can say anything. He’s nothing if not kind and sacrificing. “We have time to stay a little while more, right lads?”

Niall sends him a grateful smile and mouths “thank you”, and Zayn and Liam both smile at that. Harry is quiet, but Louis is still meant to be kind of upset with him, so he doesn’t really care.

“You’ll have to teach us all about the life on Earth,” he suggests, looking at Zayn cheerfully. “I’m dying to know.”

“Of course,” Zayn grins back. “You could start right now by trying a s’more, if you’d like.”

The coming minutes goes by with Zayn showing Louis exactly how to get the marshmallow perfectly burned—two attempts turns out black, one attempt is dropped, Louis is frustrated—and then how to make it into a nice sandwich with the graham crackers and chocolate.

Louis watches the result in his hand suspiciously. Studies the string of white hanging off the edge. And then he shoves half of it into his mouth in one go, and his eyes instantly widen comically, a stifled gasp leaving his lips.

So s’mores might possibly be the absolute best thing Louis has ever tasted in his entire life.

He’s beginning to understand where Zayn was coming from with his horrified gaze earlier when Louis and Liam admitted they’ve never tasted it before. Louis so gets it now, because he doesn’t know himself how he’s been living without the glorious, mushily sweet taste fresh on his tongue and sticking to his lips.

He can’t have been properly living before this, he concludes. It’s like all he’s experienced until the very moment the first bit of melted marshmallow touched the tip of his tongue has just been blandly passing by in grey shades of nothingness. It’s all he can focus on. He doesn’t even know if there’s some kind of conversation going on around him at the moment, because the only thing he can focus on are these heavenly sandwiches of sugar and joy.

Beside him, Harry is sitting, and he is struggling.

His neck is strained and he’s flat out staring at the sticky, white string of melted marshmallow that Louis still hasn’t been able to lick from his lips quite yet. Louis is way too caught up in the fantastic sensation his taste buds are giving him to notice anything, but Niall certainly isn’t. He momentarily stops listening in to Liam and Zayn’s shy attempt at conversation to watch the situation closer, knowing smirk widening on his lips.

“This,” Louis manages to get out between the enthusiastic bites, “is my _favorite_ thing.”

He finishes his fourth s’more and pointedly sucks his fingers clean from crumbs and drying marshmallow, making a popping sound whenever he pulls off. Harry gulps.

When Louis immediately dives in for a fifth one, impatiently waiting for the marshmallow to become perfectly gooey on the inside, Harry decides to clear his throat to speak up.

“You should probably be careful, pixie,” he suggests lightly. “Keep stuffing them like you’re doing and you might start choking.”

Louis takes it as a challenge instantly, turning his entire body to make full eye contact with the spirit and then thrusts the whole thing into his mouth at once, chewing with emphasis.

“That’s alright,” he shrugs when he’s swallowed it all, oblivious to the look in Harry’s eyes that’s definitely telling everyone around him about a very different kind of own hunger. “I don’t have a gag reflex, anyway.”

And, no, Louis doesn’t choke on anything, but Harry certainly does on the sharp intake of air he just made, spending the next thirty seconds in a coughing fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hello i am emilia and i am a dialogue abuser)
> 
> i am extremely sorry about the delay, first off. i've been very busy with school starting again among other things, but i sincerely promise i'm doing my best xxx so i hope this was alright, i'm not too happy about it tbh but when am i ever?
> 
> if everything goes as planned, the next chapter will be ready in about 2 weeks and i will try my very hardest to have it done by then :) 
> 
> as always thank you for reading, kudos and comments make me so so so so happy like they make my days, and if you want to talk my tumblr is @tequiladimples :)xxxx


	14. chapter 12; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for sexual content towards the end!! if you are not into that you can easily skip to the next scene xxx

 

Louis’ tummy is aching. His lips and fingers are sticky and he’s positive his tongue is crumbling from all the sweetness. He’d quite like something to drink right about now but it’s very clear to him that walking down to the shore and drink from the ocean is not an option like it would be at home in the Forest. The lakes and streams over there are always perfectly clear and clean and fresh, and it’s obvious the ocean he got out of a couple of hours ago is none of those thing. He mentally cusses the others out for forgetting to buy some kind of beverage when they’d been at Tesco. Not himself. How would he know that eating so many s’mores would get you this thirsty?

He wouldn’t know. And he’s just about to call Zayn or Niall out on this, when Zayn gets there before him with a different subject.

“So. Teach you about Earth, huh?” he questions. His inhumanly gorgeous eyes are glinting with something slightly mischievous, and Louis is immediately over his dry tongue and leans forward. He knows that when he himself has got that look in his eyes, only beautiful things can come from it.

(At least according to him. What others around might reckon is not important.)

“So have you… Have you ever gone clubbing?” Zayn asks, and as soon as the last syllable leaves his lips, Niall starts grinning excessively, pumping a fist in the air.

“ _Fuck_ yes. You are a man after my own heart, Zayn Malik.”

Louis hasn’t gone clubbing. He has never heard the expression before.

 _Perfect_.

“What is clubbing?” he asks, notably intrigued.

“You seriously don’t have any related activity?” Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You go to a place where there is alcohol and loud music and drunk people, and then you dance and hook up.”

“Oh. Of course we do. We have festivals for the season changes. There are lots of wine and dancing and I guess the third one as well, especially on the pixies’ part.” Louis wrinkles his nose a little at the mention of the tiny pests. They really have no shame. It’s unbearable.

A snort is heard from Harry.

“This is not a fancy occasion. We’re talking liquor, Louis, have you had that? Drinks that are so alcoholic they burn your throat and set your insides on fire?”

Louis frowns, wrinkling his nose. “That sounds terrible, though. Why would you drink beverages that obviously taste awful?”

“You’re cute, Louis, you’re so cute,” Harry shakes his head. “You drink to get _drunk_.”

This is a very foreign concept to Louis, and it’s very evident that Harry finds that fact hilarious.

“Do you honestly not have creatures in your surroundings who drink just a little too much? Who empties entire bottles during grape harvest season and then they get all buzzed for hours?” he asks. “You can’t tell me that’s never happened.”

No, yeah, that has happened. Louis thinks back on the summer festival they have each year, how the elves and the fairies and other embodied spirits gather to eat and drink, and how they take on bottle after bottle of the finest red wine they have, how their cheeks go a little redder and their eyes a little glossier for every glass they consume.

He doesn’t really do it much, though. Either he’s been too young, or too restless to ever stay put with the older creatures around the table and get to that point.

“Yeah, that happens,” he allows. “But never to me.”

“You’ve never been drunk.” Harry stares at him, eyes blown comically wide.

Louis feels inferior. He feels unexperienced and small and naïve because it’s obvious that all four of the other boys find this unbelievable. Even Liam. Even Liam has been irresponsible and drunk at least once.

“Okay…” Zayn drags the syllables out emphatically. “Looks like we’re clubbing, then.”

Louis’ excitement is slightly dampened from being the only one inexperienced within a subject, but not enough to make him completely lose his buzz.

“Well, then,” he claps his hands together. “What are we waiting for? Are there preparations? Since you’re obviously the experts.”

Zayn looks at him with amusement. “You need ID’s, first off, or you won’t even be able to get in. Then we should all probably get a night’s sleep because judging by the bags under your eyes it’s been a while and it’s starting to get late. During the day we’ll find something to do to pass time, and then we’ll go at it tomorrow night.”

“Right.” Louis really doesn’t want to ask what an ID is, so he hopes someone will catch on and explain by themselves.

Harry catches on. Of all people.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the expression,” he says, not only directed towards Louis but also Liam, “but an ID is a card with your personal information on and it’s used in clubs to verify you’re of legal age.”

“Are we of legal age, then?” Louis frowns. He’s not too crazy about breaking the law.

“Is there an age for drinking?” Liam mumbles in disbelief next to him.

“That’s not going to be a problem regardless,” Zayn cuts in. “My flat mate, right, he’s an expert at faking these kind of things. Birth certificates, ID’s, driver’s licenses, the lot. You’ll be fine. I’ll talk to him in the morning about making you some.”

“I already have one,” Niall announces, satisfied, “and I’m guessing Harry can get in on his own.”

Harry nods. “I don’t think Louis needs one, either. He can transport with me, it’s worked before. Less work, you know?”

Louis feels like this might be a moment where he’d want to disagree, but he’s quite frankly not in the mood. So when the others agree, he stays quiet. Harry seems content.

“So do we all just crash at your place now or what?” he then continues, raising an eyebrow as he looks at Zayn. It’s reluctant, the interaction, Louis notices. He understands it must still be hard for Harry, this whole Zayn thing. Louis needs to find a way to make that vanish very soon. “Platonically huddle together in your bed while listening to your roommate having an orgy next door?”

Louis wants to kick Harry for being so insanely rude, but he stops himself when he watches Zayn’s face and realizes he’s not appearing to be very offended. On the contrary, his symmetrical lips are pulled into an appreciative smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to listen if you don’t want to, I’m sure he’d let you join,” he answers lightly.

It’s bizarrely beautiful, how Harry’s raised brow goes from being skeptical to being amused at Zayn’s retort. Louis wants to wipe at his eyes and clutch his heart.

“No, I was more thinking along the lines of having our own thing. I’m competitive,” Harry replies, testing the waters hopefully.

That manages to even lure out a snort of laughter from Zayn, and both boys relax within seconds. Louis has never been happier about being right regarding something, and he promises himself he’ll use this to further encourage a friendship between the two of them.

(Somewhere far back in his mind there’s a tiny voice asking when exactly he started wanting people to befriend Harry, as if it’s a good thing for anyone involved. He doesn’t think of it further.)

“I’m flattered by the offer, but I respectfully decline. I was thinking I could fit two people into my bed, and then two on a mattress, and then one on the couch for tonight, and then in the morning I’ll just ask my mate to sleep somewhere else for a couple of days.”

Louis widens his eyes in concern. “Oh no, you shouldn’t kick your friend out because of—we’ll be just fine, I promise—“

“I should, though.” Zayn cuts him off nicely but firmly. “It’s no big deal, we do that shit all the time. He’s got numerous places to stay if he wants. It’s only temporary, right?”

Earth people are so bloody weird.

Niall looks delighted over this, though, and he excitedly claps his hands.

“Well, then, lads. Let’s have a sleepover.”

 

~

 

Zayn’s flat is not very big, and it’s over all messy. There are clothes lying astray in various places, the furniture is mismatched in both style and age and the living room smells of marijuana—now plants Louis does know, and he knows _all_ kinds—and paint, which makes sense when Louis sees the numerous canvases with abstract, colorful themes leaning against the walls, waiting to be hung somewhere. The kitchen is small and dishes are unwashed in the sink and there are takeaway boxes waiting to be thrown away on the kitchen counter.

But Louis can’t help but like it a little, because despite the messiness, it feels a lot like a home. It’s so evident that people live here, that people wake up and live and talk and breathe and go through with their day and enjoy free time and eat and sleep here, and it’s comforting.

Louis hasn’t seen a proper home in what feels like ages.

“Right,” Zayn says slowly, pursing his lips somewhat nervously. “I know it’s not the fanciest place, but—“

“It’s perfect,” Liam cuts him off instantly. Louis isn’t sure whether Liam likes it because he likes the place itself or because he likes everything that has to do with Zayn, but he’s supporting it regardless. Liam walks further into the living room, kneeling in front of a painting.

“Do… Do you make these?” he wonders, amazement swooping over his soft features.

 “Um.” Zayn scratches his neck and looks away when he understands what Liam is referring to. “Yeah. Painting is kind of like therapy for me. It’s just—it’s expressive. You know?”

If those were words coming out of Louis’ mouth, they’d be a lot less clumsy, the fairy remarks. He’d wax poetic for minutes. He’d bend and twist words until they were exactly what he’d want them to be, he’d make it sounds breath taking and beautiful. He’d make sure everyone understands.

But as he watches Liam turn around, dark eyes hazy and bright with bewilderment, Louis thinks that maybe Zayn wouldn’t have to do that to make him understand.

There’s so much mutual understanding between them he almost feels sick.

“They’re beautiful,” Liam tells him, wide eyed and sincere.

 Zayn wipes at his mouth and looks down on his feet, trying to stop his lips from stretching.

“Thank you,” is all he manages.

There’s a tense silence for a few seconds, and Louis is starting to get slightly uncomfortable. He looks to Niall, whose grin is insanely satisfied in every way possible, and then to Harry, who catches his gaze and rolls his eyes.

“I think,” Niall starts giddily, “that since I am the smallest, I take the couch. And then Zayn should obviously sleep in his own bed, so he and Liam could share because the bed is the biggest and you are both quite big. And then Louis and Harry can use the mattress. Makes sense, yes?”

Liam and Zayn nod at the same time as Louis and Harry—unsurprisingly—start voicing their discontent loudly.

Turns out, though, that Niall really isn’t having it tonight. He stares at the pair, the unimpressed indifference so clear you can probably taste it, before shutting them down immediately.

“You two need to stop acting like you weren’t examining each other’s tonsils with your tongues a couple of hours ago. You’re sleeping on the fucking mattress and that’s that.”

This silence lasts longer, and it’s definitely on a completely new level of unbearable. Liam looks like he’s in pain at the memory, Niall has nonchalantly taken a seat on the couch, and Zayn’s got something new and comprehending in his eyes, like he’s just tied together all the knots. There are no knots to be tied, Louis wants to say. There’s nothing to make sense of.

He doesn’t say any of that, but takes a final deep breath and claps his hands together.

“Right, then,” he says. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

It seems to wake everyone up from their momentary freeze, and they get moving very quickly to help Zayn with preparing for bed, even though it’s quite evident it’s not their forte. Louis has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s still got a very clear picture of how he wants it to look like when they’re done. By the time they get there he’s bickered with Harry over different arrangements at least three times.

Needless to say, he’s exhausted. And so do the rest seem to be as well.

So they all part ways to finally, _finally_ get some rest and when Louis lies down on the mattress he makes sure to spread out his entire body to the very tips of his fingers and toes, sighing contently. It’s been far too long, and nothing has ever felt nicer than this rough little mattress does in this very moment. Louis is happy.

That is, until Harry Styles has the nerve to lightly but incredibly rudely poke Louis’ side with his shameful foot and ask him to move over.

Louis furrows his eyebrows and gives him a disapproving glare.

“I’m just fine where I am, _thank you very much_.”

“Don’t be a dick, Louis, we’re supposed to share.”

“You don’t even need sleep, anyway,” Louis huffs, pulling the covers tighter around him. That’s one of the first things he got to know about Harry, during that awful hunt back at the University. Say what you want, but Louis’ memory is in top shape.

“I don’t _need_ sleep,” Harry simply states. “Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. Scoot.”

He doesn’t like a single second of it, but Louis complies at last, shifting from his spread out position to being nestled up in the corner, and Harry lies down next to him, grabbing his own blanket.

“Thank you,” he says uncharacteristically gently.

Louis opens one eye incredulously. “It’s just some bed space, Harold. It’s no big deal.”

“If you ever find it in you to call me Harold again I will destroy you.”

“It’s not right for Harold to die so soon when Pixie still gets to live.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Harry pauses for a moment, before inhaling once again. “I wasn’t thanking you for the bed.”

“Of course you weren’t.” Louis tries to remain indifferent, but he can’t help the small, shy but very comfortable warm prickling in his chest at Harry doing this. Again. In front of him. To him.

“Zayn seems really nice,” the spirit almost whispers. “So thank you.”

The last remains of the intense irritation Harry’s mere presence caused him runs off of him like pouring rain. Just like that. Louis can’t be an asshole about this. Not when he’s sleepy and exhausted and Harry’s trying so genuinely. He doesn’t feel a want to be an asshole about it.

So he turns over so he’s facing Harry to give him a smile that tiredly crinkles his eyes instead, settling for a “no problem” and a “goodnight.”

He doesn’t bother turning back around.

 

~

 

“Rise and _shine_ , fellas!”

Niall’s unnecessarily loud voice pierces through Louis’ wonderful state of sleep, and he groans loudly against the firm, warm, welcoming mattress to state his disapproval.

This doesn’t seem to faze the cupid even the tiniest bit, though, as he soon starts yelling again.

“It’s a beautiful day, boys. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining—which is a _miracle_ , because this is London—and I got plenty of cash we can spend on clothes and shitty food and burning liquor just to get that one hundred percent Earthly feeling. Stop making out and start moving.” He pauses, realizing what he just said with an amused hum. “That sentence was certainly a first.”

Louis frowns and shakes his head, unwillingly opening his eyes to take a look around.

That’s when he realizes his body is in fact not on a mattress. It is literally resting on top of Harry.

Louis lets out a choked shriek and rolls off of the spirit immediately, face burning hotter than a summer’s day.

He hears Harry snicker behind him. “Oh, don’t do that. You seemed like you were comfortable.”

“Fuck you, I was asleep. I move around in my sleep.”

Louis doesn’t even have to look at Harry to know the taller boy is not buying it.

“Right,” he agrees, but every morpheme is dripping with amused condescension. Louis clenches his fists.

“I hate you so much.”

“Right back at you, pixie.” Harry doesn’t sound upset at all, and Louis breathes deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Twenty four hours after swearing to never even graze shoulders with Harry ever again, Louis ends up with their legs tangled together on a mattress. The universe is obviously not playing a fair game.

“Where are you getting money from, Niall?” he asks in an attempt to change and bury the previous subject forever, and massages his temples slowly.

“Oh. I have that stuff set up for me for when I need to work among the humans on Earth. You can’t really function at all here without money.”

That sounds awfully sad, Louis thinks. He never has to worry about money. He guesses Grimm is still exactly the same if only not as technically developed, so he shouldn’t be so unfamiliar with it, but still.

Louis quickly gets out of bed, sliding into his old clothes and combing his hands through his hair a couple of times, trying to distract himself from the fact that he’s been cuddling Harry all night. Harry himself seems to do just about the same, and he’s in the kitchen before Louis is, joining Zayn, Liam and the other unknown man—presumably Zayn’s flat mate—at the small kitchen table.

“We’re going through the details for the ID,” Zayn updates to them quickly. “We need Liam’s full name.”

“Oh right, of course,” Harry says confidently, but then his eyes quickly move over to Liam, and Louis catches a glimpse of uncertainty, and he realizes that, _oh_. They don’t really have a full name for Liam.

The flat mate raises an eyebrow expectantly, and Harry clears his throat.

“It’s Liam, uh,” he makes a gesture to Liam’s wide eyed figure, “…Payne.”

Louis isn’t sure if he wants to face palm himself or Harry.

He stands there quietly, physically pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep himself from talking as the guy he doesn’t know the name of and doesn’t care to learn writes it all down, asks a couple of more questions which Harry handles smoothly, and as a last thing they take Liam aside to snap some photos suitable for an ID. When they’re finally done Zayn thanks his friend with a heartfelt hug Liam can’t help but fonding over from afar, and then finally mentions for them all to leave.

As soon as they’re out of the door, Louis stops Harry to give him the most incredulous look he can muster.

“You named him Liam _Pain_ ,” he states slowly, dragging it out to make Harry realize how ridiculous he thinks Harry is.

“It’s spelled P-a-y-n-e,” Harry deadpans instantly, before shaking his head.

“Liam Pain.”

“I panicked, okay?”

“Liam _Pain_.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Harry gives him a light shove out of the way as they start walking, taking long, prominent steps forward. Louis looks after him for a heartbeat, trying to wipe the tickling of a smile off of his face and the swallow the bubbling of laughter in his throat.

He skips up to the rest, throwing himself into the discussion loudly and abruptly, and he bickers with Harry back and forth as he tries to remember why creatures genuinely see something scary there.

 

~

 

This thing with collecting things into one single place, that’s a concept that humans seem to like a lot, Louis figures. There was the grocery store yesterday, and now there’s the clothing store.

Louis hasn’t seen so many different items of clothing in one place ever before. It’s all extremely impressive, and while he has a little trouble locating himself and understanding the separations of the clothes (“what do you _mean_ ‘man and woman’? Are there rules? Are clothes not for wearing here? Are they a system of some sort?”), he’d quite like to see some of these things in Grimm, and he promises himself once again that he needs to start leaving the forests and visit the town more often during his future time at home. Grimm must have some sort of similar arrangement.

“Okay,” he muses, looking through a bunch of colorful jeans. Harry is right behind him, and he kind of wants to start a fight about it, but he also feels like maybe it would be rude in a public place like this. “How do I know which pair will fit me?”

Harry hums thoughtfully.

“Try finding things in size small and you should be good to go.”

Louis gives him a glare and a disapproving huff, and Harry sighs.

“No, I’m actually serious. I wasn’t trying to offend you, I think small is your size.”

He sounds genuine. Louis kind of wants to lie down on the ground for a moment. Reflect over this. Reevaluate his positive reevaluation of Earth.

He apparently takes too long, because Harry rolls his eyes and starts digging through the pile.

“Here are two pairs of jeans, one red pair, one black, hopefully your size. Over there we have one of those get the third item for free sales on shirts. Pick out three, size small. Possibly medium. Go to a changing room, try them on. Done.”

Louis huffs, but accepts the jeans and does what Harry tells him. He’s not going to oppose him here, about this. This is something Harry knows about and Louis doesn’t, and Louis would without a doubt only make himself look stupid. Louis isn’t about to enter a battle he can’t win.

He chooses three quite simple shirts; one with navy stripes, one black, and one button down. He’s quite happy with his choice, and when he tries it on in the changing room he can contently state that they fit very nicely as well, and he decides to go with it and buy it.

Louis has just put on his own clothes again and is ready to leave the shop with his new wardrobe when suddenly, two long straps of fabric is flung over the door of the booth. Cold metal clasps nearly hits Louis in the face, and he flinches, terrified for about three seconds before he realizes who’s behind it.

“Before you come out here I want you to try these as well. I think they’d fit you,” he hears Harry’s voice from outside, and it’s not taunting. Expectant maybe, possibly, absolutely, but it doesn’t sound like a joke, so Louis picks them up and identifies what exact item of clothing they are.

“You want me to wear _braces_?” he clarifies, raising his eyebrows in skepticism when he succeeds.

“I really do,” Harry promises.

Louis rolls his eyes and groans. This is so unnecessary.

Still, he guesses that he has no actual reason to oppose it because it’s not like he hates the idea of them, so with little trouble he attaches them to his jeans and turns to look in the mirror again.

He finds to his surprise that he quite likes it. It frames his torso nicely, he thinks as he turns a little to watch it from a different angle. He can definitely work this.

The only problem would be the fact that the braces are quite long—and despite being taller than he usually is, Louis is still not exactly to be associated with the word. Hence, they keep threatening to fall down his small shoulders, and he has to hike them up again every three seconds. Which might not be the most practical thing.

“Are they anything you might consider?” Harry asks from outside.

“Yeah, they’re—fine!” Louis calls back. “They need some adjustment, though, because, uh—they keep falling down my shoulders.”

He can hear Harry snicker from outside the booth, and he pouts to himself. It’s not his fault he has a slightly smaller frame than the average person. Even without the body of a fairy. It’s really not. Harry should be over it by now.

“You know,” Harry continues and Louis can hear his smile before the curtain is pulled back to reveal it. “It’s funny how even in your human size you’re still so very—“

The spirit goes completely and abruptly quiet the second he lays eyes on Louis, and his stare is so blank and wide Louis can’t help but blush.

“Um,” he starts awkwardly. “Do you know how to fix it? Because if not I’ll just— I’ll find someone else to—“

“ _No_!” Harry says, voice a little too high to be casual, quickly taking a step forward and clears his throat. “No, let me help, it’s just…”

He takes another few slightly uneven steps up to Louis, slowly lifting his hands to start tugging at one of the braces, adjusting the clasp accordingly. Louis swallows once and twice, noting the way the spirit refuses to meet his eyes, focusing all his attention on fitting the braces against Louis’ shoulders.

They’re so close. Once again. It’s insane how quick the atmosphere went from playful to insufferably loaded in microseconds, just because their faces are inches apart suddenly. Louis can’t breathe.

“Um,” he mumbles again, fighting to keep his eyelids from fluttering shut. He focuses on the dip between Harry’s collar bones and tries to refrain from tasting them. “So should I go with the braces, then?”

Everything is moving so fast Louis has trouble keeping up, and he bites his lip to refrain from doing something stupid about it.

Harry’s fingers hasn’t let go from where they just accustomed the size of the braces, thumbing the soft, thin fabric of Louis’ shirt under, and Louis shivers. There is such a thin layer of cotton separating their skin from grazing, and it’s making his entire body hot and his pulse is pounding in his ears.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, breath tickling Louis’ lower lip. “You should go with the braces.”

No one or both make the decision. Louis isn’t sure at all.

But then their lips are on each other once again.

Louis sighs breathily into the kiss, and he knows it should taste like defeat and weakness because he’s been promising himself at least fifty times in these last couple of hours that this would never ever happen again. He’s been solemnly swearing that he would never even look at Harry with objective admiration of physical beauty anymore.

It doesn’t taste like defeat and weakness. It tastes like a fuzzy purple and feels like a star eyed sky and Louis can’t help but want every piece of it he can reach, so he goes with it and just disconnects again.

Who needs rationality anyway, when Harry is sliding his hands down your suspenders and tugs to pull you closer.

No one, Louis decides, and pushes up on his toes to try and make them the same height, inhaling Harry’s scent and he’s surprised to find it smelling like earth after a night’s rain—familiar and comfortable and safe, like Louis belongs.

Louis experimentally sticks his tongue out to lick into Harry’s plush mouth, and he earns a groan of approval from the spirit as Harry presses his big hands to the small of Louis’ back, grinding into him once. The tightness in Louis’ pants quickly go from tentative to unbearable.

“Have you ever done this before?” Harry mumbles, stroking the soft skin on Louis’ hips where his shirt has rid up a little.

Louis just shakes his head in return, and Harry’s eyes go a little bit wider.

“Nothing? Not even—“

“No, nothing,” Louis snaps impatiently. “We’re told we don’t need _that stuff_ to feel satisfaction. Nothing feels better than waking up spring, is what they always said.”

His jeans are so, so tight and he cannot think further than to the point where that tightness will finally be released, and he wants _less talking_.

Harry is still for a moment, only rubbing his fingers softly into Louis’ spine, a disbelieving but amazed smile on his lips.

“I’m very sorry,” he says, sounding the least sorry Louis has ever heard someone sound in his life. “But I think you’ve been tremendously lied to.”

And then he reattaches their mouths, as easily as if their default mode is to be locked together like this. It doesn’t at all feel like only the second time and it doesn’t at all feel like a simple physical action. It feels like a tale with a thousand written chapters of experience, like a tale with a thousand more chapters in progress, like Harry is pressing dialogues and descriptions onto Louis’ mouth with his own, like he’s telling Louis endless stories and Louis needs to know the ending.

Louis can’t help but let out an embarrassing whine, and he can feel Harry’s menacing grin against his mouth. The taller boy parts them a little, reaching a hand up to stroke along Louis’ jaw, stopping to press light fingertips against the fairy’s lips.

“Be quiet, yeah?” he murmurs. “Stay quiet for me.”

Louis just nods fervently, at loss for actual words. At this point, he doesn’t even care anymore. He’s just desperate for some kind of friction.

Harry nods back, a smirk nipping at the corners of his mouth, as he slides his hand down Louis’ body until he reaches the waist, undoes Louis’ zip, and slips a hand down his pants. He palms Louis’ growing erection and Louis hisses at the sudden contact.

“I’m figuring,” he whispers into the corner of Louis’ mouth, “since you’re being so— _generous_ , and all, helping me becoming a better being—“ a firm hand wraps around Louis cock, and Louis almost bites Harry’s lip instead of his own, letting out a breathy, exasperated sigh as Harry starts moving his hand up and down, thumbing the slit gently every time he reaches the head. Louis is on fire.

Harry moves them one step, lining Louis’ back up against the wall. “How about I teach you a few things in return, hm?”

Louis can’t even answer, too overwhelmed by the heat and the adrenaline and Harry’s engulfing hand touching him just the way he wants to. There’s not a single part of his body grazed by Harry’s touch that’s not burning, and it should be uncomfortable but Louis can’t help but run his hands up Harry’s stomach and ribcage and shoulders, finding something to grip a hold of, to get rid of some of that awfully overproduced energy Harry’s causing.

He starts thrusting into Harry’s fists, feeling how his stomach ties and unties and warmth starts pooling in his abdomen. Harry keeps going, using the slick precome leaking from Louis’ tip to make his movements faster, meeting the base every time Louis shoots his hips forward. Flushed whimpers are leaving Louis’ now swollen lips as he starts going quicker and harsher, chasing a release at the same time as he doesn’t want it to end.

Harry parts their mouths for a couple of seconds, using his free hand to wander up and he locks their eyes as he strokes along Louis’ wet lower lip. There’s a moment of absolute silence, as they just stare right at each other and Harry’s eyes are so deep and attentive Louis feels the pressure in his stomach tighten even more.

When he comes, it’s in long shudders right into his pants.

 

~

 

Niall is feeling the energy. He is feeling the energy _so much_.

He knows exactly, one hundred percent, what’s going on in that changing room, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh because they’re so predictable, or cry his eyes out because if they don’t come out soon he’s going to have to break these news to Liam and Zayn, and Liam has already suffered enough. Going from thinking your two friends hate each other to knowing your same two friends are fucking in a changing booth within the time span of a day would certainly be a breaking point for the shape shifter.

Speaking of whom, Liam has been pacing back and forth through the store very impatiently for an alarming while.

“How long can it possibly take to try on some new clothes?” he asks, looking from Zayn to Niall a couple of times, expecting some kind of answer. “We’ve been waiting for a good twenty minutes!”

“I’m sure Louis just has a hard time accustoming to his Earth body,” Niall answers lowly, trying to convey as much calmness as possible. “Harry’s probably helping out. We need to give them a little time.”

“What kind of help could Louis possibly want to accept from Harry?” Liam demands, clueless.

 _Oh, you’d be surprised_ , Niall wants to quip. He doesn’t.

“I’ve already told you—their bond is special and it needs to develop,” he settles for with an impressively casual shrug. “Shock is the last feeling you should have when they end up spending time together.”

Liam huffs, but doesn’t push it further, and Niall is grateful. The energy is still sparking and shooting and vibrating all over the place, but he thinks it should be over in not too long, and then they can finally get out of here.

He’s right—the tension holds for maximum another minute, before slowly starting to die down, and Niall drags a sigh of relief. He hears two pairs of feet walking their way. It’s over. No damage done.

He guesses.

Harry is looking smugger than Niall’s ever seen a person look in his entire existence. Which is very understandable, when Niall lets his eyes wander over to the shorter boy emerging from behind him. Louis is clearly trying to cover up the worst of his state by being loud and demanding again, but his eyes are glossy and his lips are awfully pink and wetted and he reaches up to adjust his messy hair every three seconds. He’s also walking like he’s finding it quite uncomfortable, and Niall kind of wishes he didn’t have to know.

“ _Okay_ ,” Louis calls a little too loudly, “are we all ready to go?”

“What took you so long?” Liam asks instantly, ignoring the question.

It’s kind of worth it when Niall gets to watch Louis’ entire face go from a little flushed to frankly beet red. He determinedly tries to act like it’s not happening, though, as he rolls his eyes in a desperate attempt to look nonchalant.

“I can’t help that I’m picky, alright, let me live, Liam. God.”

Harry snorts beside him, and Louis subtly kicks him in the shin.

“Let’s go,” he says blankly. It’s not a question. Everyone starts moving towards the cashier.

There is no possibility of them going all the way in there, Niall is positive, so he understands soreness is not why Louis is having such trouble walking like a normal person. Which means there’s pretty much only one other option. Which judging by Harry’s extremely satisfied twinkle of his eyes, will definitely happen again.

Niall sighs deeply, and he tiredly grabs another pack of boxers before wandering off to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look!! who's not dead!! it's me!! wow!!
> 
> i owe you a huge apology for the wait. the thing is, my mental health is pretty season bound, and during this past month i haven't been feeling very well (and chances are pretty big these things might happen again during these autumn/winter times). hence, i haven't had motivation or inspiration to write at all and i've had to wait for that motivation to slowly come back. and now it's here again, i guess. and hey, we've entered the official smut area in the story so that's quite nice :)  
> i also hope this chapter was okay bc i don't know how to feel about it?? but yes. thank you a thousand times for keeping up with me and waiting. it genuinely means the world to me.
> 
> as always, if you ever want to speak to me about literally anything (which i will be unbelievably happy and ridiculously excited about) my tumblr is @tequiladimples. xxxxxx


	15. chapter 13; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a slight warning for light sexual harassment. be safe xx

It’s nighttime. They’re walking down the lit up streets of London, having just gotten out of a taxi. Louis is amazed by the mere concept of that activity, and he would not stop whispering excitedly about how much he loves car rides for the entire trip. So he’s excited. Why wouldn’t be be? He’s wearing his suspenders, his new bright colored jeans, and his very nicely fitting button down. He knows Harry is watching his back. He feels a little invincible. Sue him.

“So, where exactly are you taking us? Are there rules we need to follow?” he asks Zayn, skipping along the concrete on his tip toes, trying to avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks.

Zayn laughs. “Usually, yes, but honestly… This is the nastiest club in London. No one gives a shit about what you do in there. I’m not going to bring you to some fancy place, that’d take away the fun. Just don’t get in a fist fight and you should be good.”

Louis considers this for a bit. Of course, he is a little concerned. The nastiest club in London doesn’t exactly sound like a place where he can be in control of things, and he likes to be. It’s enough as it is that he has no experience with this situation to begin with.

Harry and Niall, on the other hand, seem pleased with this, praising Zayn’s choice.

“Fantastic, Zayn,” Niall compliments. “Great taste. Just how it’s supposed to be.”

The building they’re approaching is pretty shabby on the outside, only half of the neon letters above the door still glowing.

After another seconds of walking, Harry steps in next to Louis, and he starts waving and saying goodbye to the other three. Louis is visibly confused, but Zayn immediately plays along as Harry pulls Louis away to the closest street corner, waving and telling them that they’ll be waiting by the bar.

“What are you _doing_?” Louis hisses, ripping his arm out of Harry’s grip. “Why aren’t we going in?”

Harry rolls his eyes and places his hand right back on Louis bicep. Louis has to tense all of his muscles to not lean into the warmth of that touch, and he despises his own irrational weakness.

“We _are_ , remember? Stay relaxed and shut up,” Harry commands, before they’re both dissolving into the air, once again floating through the weird in-between Louis still doesn’t entirely know how to feel about.

He barely has the time to react before Harry lets go again and this time they’re somewhere completely different, Louis landing with both his hands pressed up against the dirty, scrabbled on walls of a bathroom stall to not lose balance.

Harry straightens out the hem of his shirt and takes a deep breath.

“Right, that was that,” he concludes, reaching for the door, but Louis instantly catches his fingers to pry them away.

“What if there are people outside?” he protests. “We can’t just come out two people from a bathroom, no one does that!”

“Relax.” Harry rolls his eyes. “If anyone’s out there they’ll just think we hooked up. It’s no big deal.”

“Wh— _yeah_ , it is!”

Harry, unsurprisingly, doesn’t listen, just ruffles his hair a little and opens the door like it doesn’t faze him even the tiniest bit. Which it obviously doesn’t. But still.

Louis snorts in exasperation, but follows him out of the restrooms and into the club.

As soon as he steps outside, a deep bass line hits against him with force, drumming in his chest and ringing in his ears, and that’s the first thing he feels. Then comes the lively, colorful lights, the heat clinging to his skin, the smell of sweat, perfume and alcohol, and then Harry’s arm grazing his own.

It feels just as alien and intimidating and exciting as Louis’ hoped.

He follows Harry, probably much like a lost puppy, keeping his eyes on the broad shoulders before him and not anything else until Harry stops in front of a long, polished but definitely not entirely clean, desk.

Niall, Liam and Zayn are already standing there waiting patiently for them, Liam looking just as starry eyed as Louis feels.

“So,” Zayn grins with an arm around Liam. “How are you finding it, Louis?”

“It’s…” Louis wrinkles his noise in thought, searching through his vocabulary. “… It’s a lot.”

Nailed it.

Harry snorts beside him. “How about we get something to drink? It’ll be even more ‘a lot’ of everything then.”

“Will it taste good?”

The reply he gets is another bark of laughter.

“Probably not,” Harry grins.

Niall is already one step ahead, loudly ordering five rounds of shots and then throwing suggestive looks at Louis. Louis swallows.

The bartender has the order ready in only a matter of bare minutes. The liquid is clear and the glasses are weirdly small, Louis thinks. Why would you want such small glasses? They barely fit one chug.

“So, uh… Do you sip this?” he wonders. “Or… Or why is there so little to drink?”

Louis needs to start counting the times he makes Harry laugh tonight, because if the spirit is going to keep this up, it’s going to be a lot.

“You sip wine,” Harry says, and Louis appreciates that he’s at least trying to hold the grin off of his face. “This, you just throw back. All at once.”

He demonstrates by taking his own shot glass in his hand, raising it a little as he catches Louis’ eyes to make sure he’s paying attention, and then downs the whole thing in one go, slamming the glass down on the bar desk again.

“Your turn,” he says, nodding against the glasses and then raising his eyebrows in anticipation.

It’s literally one mouthful, Louis thinks. It can’t be that bad. He can handle this.

He keeps that mindset as he takes the shot glass into his hand and brings it to his lips, and he imitates Harry flawlessly and when he swallows it, he’s feeling pleasant and proud of himself.

The burn in his throat as the alcohol slides down is anything but pleasant, though, he soon realizes, and Louis’ whole face scrunches up in disgust right before he’s thrown into a coughing fit.

A shiver runs through his entire body, and when he looks up the first thing he sees is Harry laughing at him to the point where he needs to support himself on the chair beside him. Wow.

“How can _anyone_ enjoy this? Are you out of your minds? Is this a _joke_?”

Behind Harry, Niall downs his third one.

“Don’t think so much,” he tells Louis with a wide grin. “Come on. Four more to go.”

Louis looks at the remaining shots before him with a wrinkled nose, contemplating whether it’s really worth it or not.

“Look.” This time it’s Harry speaking, Louis notes. How nice he’s finally calmed down enough to form full sentences again. “We’re not going to force you to do anything. Don’t feel like you have to.”

He is being sincere, but there are still shadows of amusement on his face, and that’s why Louis can’t take the gesture as good willed or assuring.

“Don’t _coddle_ me,” he spits, slamming one fist onto the table and clenching the other around the next glass in front of him, tilting his head back to swallow everything with determination. It’s just as bad this time, but he’s prepared for the sensation and manages to keep an almost entirely straight face.

Harry smirks and Niall seems satisfied, reaching out to pat Louis on the back.

“It’s refreshing, huh?”

“It tastes like murder,” Louis deadpans, giving his best fake smile, and Harry chokes on his own spit to suffocate the laughter that evidently wants to erupt from him.

(Louis feels incredibly satisfied with that reaction this time, though, because this time he was actually trying to be funny, and there’s nothing mocking about Harry’s amusement. He looks like a joyous toddler again.)

A nice warmth has set itself in Louis’ stomach now, though, and the scorching in his throat is slightly more manageable. There are also three more shots in front of him and he takes them as a very serious challenge.

 “I want to do more,” he enlightens the others.

Niall raises a fist and exclaims a “get in!” before he reaches for another glass.

By the time the fifth shot has landed in Louis’ tummy, his head is lighter than it had been when he arrived and he wants to move around, his body filled to the brink with energy.

“Are you feeling that, too?” he asks Harry who’s standing right next to him, and when he turns to the spirit he sees that Harry’s already looking at him.

“Feeling what?” Harry asks, smile stretching his face into something soft.

“The,” Louis gestures wildly with his hands, trying to find a good word. “The light. Ness. You know?”

He giggles a little at his failed attempt at a coherent sentence.

“Ah. You’re a lightweight,” Harry states, leaning against the bar. “Makes sense considering this is your first time drinking.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about but you’re wrong.”

Louis turns away from Harry completely to put his attention on Liam and Zayn who are standing on the other side of Niall, speaking and laughing in a relaxed—but still somewhat shy on Liam’s part—manner, and soon both Niall and Harry are watching as well. Louis is a little afraid one of them will look over and be met by three pairs of wide eyes staring intensively at them with no shame whatsoever, but they’re seemingly too caught up with each other. At last, Zayn gives Liam a playful smirk, and then he takes him by both hands to drag him into the crowd of people on the dance floor.

Niall looks like he was just given the most outstanding gift he’s ever received as he watches them disappear.

“This is going to be _easy_ ,” he beams. “I love it when love is easy.”

Louis wants to ask, “when is it not,” because he’d really like to know, but he doesn’t. He’ll have a long discussion with Niall about his job some time, but tonight is not it.

With light feet and a smile on his lips, Niall excuses himself and disappears to get a better view of his work in progress, leaving Harry and Louis alone, but Louis doesn’t particularly mind. Louis hopes to one day love his own profession just as much as Niall seems to love his.

“So, Louis,” Harry turns to him fully, colored lights casting dim shadows over his features, defining his sharp jaw and illuminating a newfound mischief in his eyes. “Do you dance a lot?”

This sounds like a challenge, too. Maybe everything Harry says has just come to sound like a competition invitation to Louis, but he feels like there’s something more behind his question than mere curiosity.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he answers, straightening his back to hide his slight discomfort with a healthy dose of self-confidence. It’s not even a lie. He does dance. “There’s lots of dancing in the Forest, you should see the elves—“

“No.” Harry cuts him off, his left dimple playing around as the smirk on his lips grows. He grabs Louis by the shoulders to firmly but still surprisingly gently turn him the face the middle of the dance floor, making Louis really _look_. Louis gulps as his eyes follow the other the challenging movements of the humans out there, watches them grind against each other, skin against skin and breathing into each other’s mouths.

“I mean, do you _dance_ , a lot?” Harry repeats in his ear.

Louis doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t, quite obviously, _dance_. Not that this looks a lot like dancing. This looks more like some kind of mating ritual, Louis thinks. Dancing and _dancing_ are obviously two different things. The only kind of creatures he knows from own experience would dedicate their time to this kind of dancing with implied emphasis, would be the pixies. And Louis has already made his stance on the pixies quite clear, so it’s safe to say he wouldn’t engage in these kind of acts. He would not.

He wants to say something snarky as a reply. Something sarcastic about what a pity it is that he doesn’t _dance_. Such a shame.

“Uh,” is what tumbles out. “No.”

Harry hums. “I figured.”

And then he reaches down to grab Louis’s hand, starting to tug him forwards.

Louis, though, mainly as a reflex, immediately snatches his own hand back defiantly and gives the spirit a look.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands.

Harry rolls his eyes and purses his lips to stop a smile.

“What does it look like?”

“I haven’t consented to this.”

“Right. How stupid of me,” Harry makes a ridiculous turn and bows before Louis, and though the lights in the club are dim and faint, laughter is still evident in his face.

“May I have your consent to share this dance with you?” he asks overly dramatically, reaching out a hopeful hand.

Louis glares at him.

“I hate you,” he enlightens the spirit. He takes his hand.

The way Harry looks like a giddy five year old as he pulls them further into the club to melt together with the crowd kind of makes Louis unable to regret it.

“Just follow my movements,” Harry leans down do speak into Louis’ ear. Louis just nods for an answer.

Carefully, Harry lets his hands slide down Louis’ sides to rest effortlessly on his hips, and he starts to gently sway the both of them along to the allusive music blaring from the speakers. Louis isn’t sure exactly what to do, so at first he just kind of tries to swing along in a weak attempt at making it look and feel as smooth as Harry’s own movements.

“Don’t overthink,” Harry suggests, and Louis can feel a heat creep up his neck. “Relax, please.”

So Louis tries again, and this time he closes his eyes and concentrates on how his skin feels, how it dips in where Harry’s thumbing his waist, how the soft fabric of his shirt is clinging onto his shoulders, how Harry’s radiating heat makes his face red, and how his stomach feels warm and fuzzy from the alcohol. He concentrates on tiny details like his hair standing up on his arms and detaches the bigger picture and hopes it’ll do.

It does.

Slowly, he raises his own hands to lock them around Harry’s neck, threading his fingers into the small strands of hair there and tugging slightly because he remembers that Harry seems to like that. He gets a reaction out of him this time just like the last, and Harry grinds his hips into Louis’, making the smaller boy shiver and push back into it, searching for some more friction.

Gradually, Louis opens his eyes again as Harry pulls him closer and closer, until their bodies are practically completely aligned with each other’s and Louis can see that despite the light in the club being dim and ever-changing, Harry’s eyes has specks of gold in them.

“Sure you haven’t danced before?” Harry lowers himself a little to ask Louis.

All Louis can make himself do right now except whine or moan pathetically is to just nod, and Harry hums.

“I never would’ve guessed, honestly.”

Louis’ insides go mushy and bright with pride at that, and he can’t even be angry at himself for letting Harry affect him like this. He can’t put his fingers on exactly why a compliment from Harry always seems to mean so much, but it _does_ and when something makes Louis feel this good about himself, he’s often selfish enough to not question it.

He moves to rest his head against Harry’s shoulder because it all of a sudden feels so heavy, like a burden that he can’t carry right now, but something behind Harry, in the back by the bar catches his immediate attention.

There’s a couple right there. Being very affectionate as publicly as they possibly can. Right in front of him.

He stares with a comically wide gaze as the woman lies right on the bar desk with her tank top hiked up and the guy hovering over her, licking her neck and what looks like kissing her stomach, before moving to her mouth and sucking the green fruit she has between her lips into his own mouth.

Harry has stopped now as well, clearly noticing Louis’ distraction and following his gaze, and Louis can tell when he connects the dots because he starts chuckling. Louis doesn’t think this is a laughing matter. He feels a little faint.

“What are they _doing_?” he presses, not able to take his eyes off of the obscene activity before him.

Harry snickers.

“They’re doing body shots. It’s great.”

"Have you... Done that?"

Harry laughs at the nearly animatedly blown away tone in Louis’ voice.

“Yes,” he replies simply, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Louis just makes a humming sound, trying to appear nonchalant about the whole thing as he keeps looking. They’re taking turns now, licking up each other’s bodies and messily making out, and it looks like nothing Louis has ever seen before. They look incredibly relaxed and giddy, and Louis wonders what it feels like. Out of plain curiosity.

“Do you want to do it?”

Louis flinches out of his trance, and he’s happy the place is so dark you could never catch the blush on his face, because his fluster is quite obvious as it is. He swiftly moves his stare over to meet Harry’s, and his lip curls at the sight of how smug the spirit is looking.

“Do what?” Louis insists. He’s going to take the oblivious road. He knows exactly what Harry is asking, but he’d be caught dead before he admits to being fascinated by this.

Harry rolls his eyes faintly. “Do you want to do body shots?” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Louis snaps his head away, stubbornly looking straight forward. “Absolutely not. It looks disgusting. Revolting. Abominable. Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

Green eyes are burning into his temple.

“ _Right_ ,” Harry says, dragging the word out to emphasize just how well he knows Louis is full of shit. “Come on.”

And without further argumentation, he engulfs Louis’ small hand in his own and pulls him with him up to the bar.

Louis lets himself be dragged along, but he makes sure to exclaim a few vague and protests to—well, honestly, he doesn’t really know. To let Harry know he doesn’t have the power to decide, probably. To stress that this isn’t Harry’s to choose.

What’s amazing is that Harry seems to take the hint, because when they reach the bar once again, he stops to look at Louis, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Look, if you really don’t want to I won’t force you into anything,” Harry says, and it’s frustrating because it sounds genuine. It’s not some kind of reversed psychology, he’s genuinely got enough morals to not force Louis into this.

God _dammit_.

That’s all Louis needs to know, though. To make him okay with it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, is the thing, or that he’s trying to be difficult on purpose. It’s never that. He just needs things to be his _own_ choice.

“No,” he insists. “No, let’s do it.”

He watches Harry widen his eyes a little in surprise as he jumps up to sit on the bar counter. It’s a pretty high one, and he dangles his feet back and forth as he awaits Harry’s next reaction.

“Well?” he urges, fluttering his eyelashes impatiently. “You’re the expert here.”

The spirit blinks a couple of times, before taking a deep breath.

“Right.” He walks closer, biting his lip to contain the smile that’s still screaming in the hollowness of his dimples and Louis’ toes curl a little. “Lie down, then.”

Louis obliges, slowly lowering himself until his head is fully supported by the hard, cool desk under him, his feet and hands resting against it as well. Harry is calling out for the necessary ingredients to the barista, and the fairy isn’t really listening. He feels the music vibrate under him and throughout his body, and he feels his own heavy breathing, and things are fuzzy. But not like, a weird kind of fuzzy. A fun kind of fuzzy. A funzy.

He giggles at himself and makes an attempt at sitting up again to tell Harry about his wording skills because he bets Harry would appreciate it, but he stops when he realizes the spirit’s already standing by him, watching him with an amused expression.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, putting the bottle of tequila down by Louis’ head to get himself ready.

Louis shakes his head and giggles again. “I feel funzy.”

“You feel what?” Harry raises his eyebrows, distinctly torn between unimpressed and amused.

“Funzy,” Louis repeats, letting Harry reach down to start unbuttoning his shirt without even blinking. “You know, like fun and fuzzy, but like, at the same time?”

“There’s already a word for that, love, it’s called tipsy,” Harry grins, pulling away the soft fabric to reveal Louis’ tummy.

Love. _Love_.

_Love._

If Louis had time, he would overanalyze and overthink and over-everything at Harry calling him a term of _endearment,_ but unfortunately he doesn’t have that time.

See, Louis is a tiny bit drunk, but he’s still conscious enough to be washed over by a sudden kind of insecurity upon having his stomach, his puffy stomach, so out there all of a sudden. It’s not usually a problem, since he has after all spent most of his life without anything shielding it, but this is the first time Harry sees it. And Louis knows for a fact that Harry is in general very muscular and lean, and he doesn’t see why the spirit’s stomach would avert from that fact.

And then there’s Louis. Always so soft and pudgy and small. Maybe not exactly who you’d prefer doing body shots off of.

So, purely as a reflex, Louis’ hands sneak up in an attempt to hide his torso, to make him feel less exposed.

Harry stops what he’s doing, furrows his eyebrows, and then gently locks his fingers around Louis’ wrists to put them away.

“Kind of hard to pour liquor into your belly button if you’re covering it,” he explains, giving Louis a slightly questioning look. Louis gulps.

“Yes, right. Of course.” He waves a hand dismissively, hoping Harry won’t comment on it.

He doesn’t comment on it. Which Louis was pretty certain he would, he’s actually a little confused, but he’s not going to complain.

Harry merely furrows his brow a little tighter for a couple seconds, before letting it go and rolling his shoulders back once, grabbing the salt with a smirk.

“So where do you want it?” he asks, tilting his head devilishly.

“I don’t know,” Louis says, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. “You’re the one who’s done this before.”

Harry is quiet for four seconds, Louis counts, before announcing;

“I think I want it here.”

He traces the skin below Louis’ belly button in a straight line downwards with his finger, and Louis shudders.

“Right here,” the spirit mumbles. “On that pretty stomach.”

There’s a distinct burn on Louis’ cheeks and neck at that, and he turns his head away, cooling of the side of his face against the smooth bar counter. Pretty. Harry thinks he’s pretty.

Thinks his _stomach_ is pretty, Louis remarks in particular. He also thinks that Harry is definitely more observant than he announces himself to be.

Harry is also still waiting for a green light regarding his wish, and Louis gives him a quick nod and a shaky exhale.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Whatever.”

The smile that tugs on Harry’s lips is slightly too gentle and Louis wants to kiss him a little. Or a lot. Probably a lot. Which doesn’t mean he likes him, he reminds himself. It means Harry is objectively very attractive and also the only one who’s ever touched Louis’ dick.

Harry puts his hands on the bar desk, on each side of Louis’ stomach. “Stay still, pixie.”

Louis’ eyes roll so far back into his head his eye sockets ache at the nickname, and he groans;

“Out of all situations you could possibly insist on calling me pixie, this is the _worst—_ “ but then Harry’s pressing his lips to Louis’s stomach, dipping his tongue again the warm, soft skin, and Louis suddenly wants to groan for a completely different reason.

Harry slides his lips and tongue in a line up Louis’ little happy trail, containing a smirk, and Louis is torn between watching and throwing his head back, trying to keep his breathing steady. A shudder runs through his body.

When Harry raises again, he snickers a little, and Louis rolls his eyes. Here we go.

“You’re so _responsive_ ,” Harry remarks delightedly, grabbing after the salt without taking his eyes off of Louis.

“Shut up,” Louis claps back weakly. It’s not even his fault. This is a completely new experience for him, in every meaning of the word. He’s allowed to be a little bit overwhelmed with things.

“It’s not a complaint.” Salt is being gently sprinkled into the wet line on Louis’ stomach, and the slight burn has Louis biting the inside of his cheek to not let another embarrassing sound escape. “Far from complaining.”

Louis’ hands find their way around the bar desk’s rounded edges, clawing his nails into the polished wood. I am calm, he declares to himself.

He does manages to not move, and he can’t help but let a little smile slip as Harry leans over him to lightly place a lime between his teeth. Louis holds it in place, as good as he can, not wanting to mess this up.

“Alright,” Harry says at last. Louis can’t watch him anymore because he’s focusing too intensely on not moving, so he watches the dark ceiling as Harry speaks in a calming tone. “I’m going to pour tequila into your belly button now. It’s going to be cold, but I need you to stay as still as you can, alright?”

Louis just nods, wishing Harry would get on with it.

(Though he is moved by the way Harry seems to sincerely try to make this as easy and comfortable as possible for him. It makes his stomach tingle with something that has nothing to do with the wetted salt along his little happy trail.)

Fortunately, Harry does get on with it, and only a few seconds after a wet, icy pressure is applied to Louis’ sensitive belly button, the curly boy doesn’t waste time as he bends down, pressing his tongue against the skin just above the lining of Louis’ boxers, licking a warm stripe along the salt. Louis lets out a small whimper, clutching the sides of the bar tightly and just feels as Harry drinks up the liquor from his belly button and gets closer to his face. He bites down on the lime with ease, sucking the sourness down, and Louis is absolutely mesmerized by the way he looks in the dim club lights. He wants to touch his face and lick on his lips.

Harry seems to be on just the same path. He spits out the lime, fumbles his hand in under the short of Louis’ back to push the smaller boy into a sitting position, not hesitating even a second before bringing their panting mouths together, letting Louis taste the sour bitterness on his tongue.

The kiss is almost more intoxicating than the alcohol, and Louis sighs softly into the warmth of Harry’s skilled mouth, letting his hands make their way up to tug at his hair. Harry instantly inhales sharply and sucks Louis’ thin lower lip in between his own at the move, and Louis is more than happy with himself.

 

~

 

“Are they going to fuck in public?” Zayn asks, thoroughly concerned. “I think they’re going to fuck in public.”

They’ve thus far been way too caught up in each other to notice anything else, but one has to admit it’s kind of very hard to miss a couple shamelessly and messily examining each other’s tonsils with their tongues right on the fucking bar desk. Not even _by_ the bar desk. On. On the bar desk.

Hence Zayn and Liam’s momentary spying. When something like this happens, you have got to stop what you’re doing for some healthy analyzation. It’s the only right thing to do.

“Don’t you think Louis is above fucking in public?” Liam asks, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel like something he’d do.”

Right as he finishes that sentence, Louis bucks his hips upwards in search for some kind of friction, and both boys have to look away in pure secondhand embarrassment.

“ _Oh_ ,” a third voice lets out with dripping emphasis. “Oh, Louis is definitely not above fucking in public. Trust me.”

Niall does not turn his gaze away. Rather, he narrows his eyes to concentrate even harder on the fairy and the spirit across the room, completely ignoring Liam and Zayn’s surprised and disbelieving looks.

“This is…” he watches for another two seconds, before his face completely drops and he groans.

“I am so fucking done with them,” he cusses, turning around swiftly to storm away into the mass of people again. “So, so done.”

Liam and Zayn watch him in bewilderment as he takes off, and then look back to the orally attached pair. Not a single thing has changed since they last looked, they’re still just as caught up in each other as they were a couple of seconds ago.

Zayn shakes his head.

“What kind of creature _is_ Niall?” he asks, turning to Liam with big eyes.

“An odd one,” Liam answers quickly and blankly, and probably pretty revealingly. He’s never been much of a liar or a hold-back-truther.

Zayn watches him closely, but lets it go.

 

~

 

Louis can feel every inch on Harry’s skin pressed against his own burn, leaving traces of flames and light along his arms, his back, his shoulders, and considering how suffocatingly warm it already is in this club, it should be uneasy and sweaty, but Louis doesn’t find it uncomfortable in the least. Harry is so _gentle_ is the thing, always so uncharacteristically gentle and careful, stroking his fingertips along the nape of Louis neck and resting hands on Louis’ hips.

“Did so good,” he breathes onto Louis’ tongue, “did so, so good, you’re so good for me—“, repeating the words until Louis can not only hear them, but also feel them sweep onto the roof of his mouth and settle in the back of his own throat.

He slides his hands downwards to the hem of Harry’s shirt and aims for stroking upwards against the toned skin of the spirits back, feeling warmth under his palms which are still a little cold from being pressed against the bar desk.

Harry freezes. Then he takes his hands off of Louis. And then he backs away.

“Right,” he says, looking with glossy eyes at a confused Louis. “Right, I’ll… I’m going to go.”

And without another word, he does.

Louis stares after him, eyebrows forcefully furrowed and swollen lips parted in puzzlement and offense. How dare Harry leave him like this? Did Louis do anything wrong? He didn’t. He can’t have. This must be Harry just playing around with him again.

It’s just that Louis hoped those stupid games would be kind of over by now. At least a little. At least the ones where Harry actually has the upper hand, where Louis is inexperienced and easy to be made a fool out of.

It’s unbelievable how Louis actually seems to subconsciously trust Harry with that.

So Louis slips down from the bar counter to stand on the floor with his elbows on the desk, and he just continues standing there, still a bit dumbfounded and a little embarrassed and a _lot_ hurt, when suddenly he’s spoken to by a voice he’s never heard before. It’s definitely not Harry’s, that’s for sure. It’s way too sleazy and a tad too high.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” it husks out, and Louis looks up to meet a curious pair of eyes, and lips pulled into a confident smirk. The stranger is attractive, no doubt, but Louis’ spine is still stiff and he feels a tad nervous.

“Hi,” he replies warily, completely clueless as to what to do in a situation like this. The stranger moves a little closer.

“Looking a bit lonely, are we?” stranger crouches down to mumble in Louis’ ear. His breath reeks of alcohol, and Louis has no idea what’s happening, but he’s never wanted away more than he does now. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

 _What_?

“What boyfriend,” Louis says flatly, scooting father away as an uneasy pressure starts pounding in his ribcage.

Stranger lifts an eyebrow, but his eyes light up remarkably, which is not exactly the reaction Louis had been hoping for. “The one who was licking salt off of your stomach five minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Louis cringes, wrinkling his nose. “Harry? Oh no. He’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Really?”

Louis wants to shudder at the mere idea. “Yeah.”

Stranger’s playful smirk widens into a full blown grin.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

And then there’s a sudden hand on Louis’ ass, and his eyes widen in shock. He opts for promptly turning around and slapping this awful excuse of a person around the face, but then there’s another hand around his waist holding him firmly put in his place, and Stranger’s breath is heavy on the nape of his neck, and unfortunately that stops the motion from happen as smoothly—or violently—as Louis had planned.

“Wow, now,” he stresses, wiggling out of the firm grip, throwing a glare at the Stranger, who’s company is now even less desirable than it was to begin with. “Just because I don’t have a partner doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

Stranger makes a contemplating sound.

“Are you sure?” he muses, sneaking a hand around the smaller boy’s waist again. “You do seem like you could use someone to, ah—put you in your place.”

He… He _did not_.

Louis gasps sharply, slapping at the intrusive hand as hard as he can. His face is absolutely beet red, and he can’t even tell if it’s from mere embarrassment or fury. Louis needs _no one_ to ‘put him in his place’. In absolutely no definition of the phrase does he need anyone to ever push him around or tell him what to do.

And he _knows_ that these words, this whole approach that this repulsive stranger is making, this is yet another reaction to his fucking size. He’s a pretty, small boy and this is a new and far nastier way of people belittling him because of it and he wants to _scream._

Stranger who absolutely does not know how to take anything even close to a hint, steps all into Louis’ space and grips Louis’ hips. Louis is about to throw an absolute temper tantrum, to scream or stomp on the stranger’s foot or elbow him in the stomach, but a very urgent and deep voice startles both him and Stranger, and this one, Louis recognizes. Stranger’s grip loosens up and Louis jumps away as quick as he can, happy that he’s free but also a little confused.

“ _Hey_!”

He looks up properly and sees none other than Harry Styles approaching with stern steps and clenched jaw, and Louis has never and will never admit to this out loud, but he is _so_ happy to see him.

Stranger has a sluggish and infuriatingly cocky smile on his lips, taunting, and he’s just about to open his mouth to address the curly haired boy, but before he gets a chance to let the first syllable roll off of his tongue, he abruptly stops. His face goes pale white and his eyes are blown wide, and he lets out a pathetic but very pained whimper as his arms fly out to grip around his own stomach.

_Oh._

Louis’ lips part in realization as Harry stops before them. Stranger is still whimpering in pain as he’s bent over, clutching his stomach convulsively. Louis just stares at first, not sure whether to be scared or relieved or worried that someone in the club will notice.

Harry, on the other hand, does not at all seem conflicted about what feeling he should give in to. He’s visibly all anger, narrowing his darkened eyes even more. Stranger lets out a yelp, partially drowned out by the loud music.

Harry is seething.

“Do we have a _fucking_ problem, mate?” he asks, and his voice is so furiously cold Louis almost starts freezing.

Stranger only shakes his head, whimpering. The colorful lights play on his pained face, and Louis… Louis is not okay with this. He’s not okay with Harry doing this. Not this way. He thought he’d be more than okay to see this stranger in pain no matter what context it’d be in, but he’s… He’s not. He’s not comfortable at all.

Harry doesn’t pay attention to Louis at the moment, though. He just takes a few, slow steps forward to watch Stranger more closely.

“Does this feel good to you?” Stranger shakes his head again, violently. “No? _Wow_. It’s almost like it’s a _physical harassment you didn’t ask for_.”

“Harry,” Louis tries once, but it comes out way too quietly, way too carefully and Louis barely recognizes his own voice like this. Harry is way too caught up in making the stranger pay for his actions to realize anything Louis is doing, as well, standing face to face with the cramped up human in front of him.

“So I swear to fucking Hades, that if I catch you even _looking_ at him ever again—“

Stranger’s eyes almost roll back into his head, and no, Louis has had enough now.

“Harry!” He storms up to Harry’s side, gripping his tense arm to crave his attention. “Stop it!”

Harry stops and looks at Louis skeptically, anger still fuming in his strained breathing, and his jaw is so tense Louis is scared it’ll break any minute.

Something in Louis’ urging words and big eyes does make a difference, though, because after a few seconds of intense eye contact, Harry purses his lips and looks back to Stranger, still on the floor in agony. The spirit watches him for a moment, upper lip curling in repulsion.

“Get out of my sight,” he deadpans.

Louis can tell the exact moment Harry pulls his powers away, because Stranger’s entire body goes slack for a moment and at first he’s just breathing heavily for a couple of heartbeats, and then he’s sprinting towards the exit, stumbling and running into people on his way. Louis watches him disappear, jaw slack and eyes wide, not knowing what to feel.

And then Harry sighs next to him, running a hand through his hair, and Louis knows exactly what he feels. He feels angry. He feels _furious_.

Harry doesn’t get to do this. First of all, because if anyone was going to punch that asshole across the face, it was Louis. And second, and most importantly, because Harry almost scared him. Louis flinched away for a second, he didn’t dare speaking loudly for the shortest moment, and that’s unacceptable. It’s humiliating to him, this whole situation, first Stranger and then Harry coming along and, not only acting like Louis needs some knight in shining armor, but also making it a big deal.

Louis is _tired_ of being treated like property. He’s so fucking sick of the way people act and look and talk to him, and so far Harry’s been the only one to truly never treat Louis like he’s a fragile piece of glass. He might talk and tease and push Louis’ buttons, but he’s never held back because he doesn’t think Louis couldn’t handle it, and he’s never followed through on any of his accusations or sneers. He can’t start now. He _can’t._ Louis won’t fucking have it.

So his mind just kind of goes into overdrive.

Harry is about to open his mouth, face evidently softer now, but Louis is there way ahead of him, and soft is the last word on his mind.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he demands feverishly.

Harry immediately snaps his mouth shut again, an incredulous wrinkle setting in-between his eyebrows. “A thank you would’ve done.”

“Thank you?” Louis clenches his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. “I was doing fine!”

He wasn’t doing fine. Louis had never been more at loss in a situation before. But he’s not telling Harry this.

There is a moment of complete silence between them as Harry stares at Louis, eyes wandering up and down his hostile body as if he can’t believe Louis is serious.

“Your hero complex is going to get you killed one day,” he states, and then turns on his heel to leave.

Fuck no. Louis isn’t having this. Not tonight.

“Hey!” he immediately hurries after Harry, gripping his arm roughly to turn him around. Harry does, and he eyes Louis with an expectantly raised eyebrow.

“What?”

And Louis can’t tell him the whole truth. He can’t say, _you almost scared me_ , he can’t say, _you can’t start treating me like everyone else does._

So he decides to take an easier path. A far more irrational and doubtlessly stupid one, because honestly, he couldn’t care less about that man’s wellbeing. But it’s the only thing left that doesn’t make him expose his emotions to Harry. It’s the only road he can take to not sound _afraid_.

“I thought you were trying to _change_. How the fuck does what you just did go together with that statement?”

It’s painfully evident Harry didn’t expect this reaction at all. His face flashes between confused, angry, and hurt, and he’s quiet for a little too long.

“Are you… Are you serious?” he settles for in the end, though a little too heated to make Louis stop and question this. He’s getting upset, too. Not that Louis minds. He wants to scream a little. Needs it.

“Dead serious,” he assures the spirit forcefully. “I can’t believe you told me you were totally going to change just to—just to fall for the temptation the first chance you get again! Were you even telling me the truth to begin with?”

Harry inhales jaggedly, and Louis can tell there’s no confusion left. All there is, is frustration, and a teeny tiny bit of that hurt that just further eggs it on.

“That _petty_ excuse for a human being completely deserved what was coming to him,” he declares intensely. ”Don’t pretend like you didn’t want to do the same.”

“That _doesn’t matter_! I could’ve handled it myself, you didn’t have to burst in just _looking_ for an excuse to use your powers even though you’re not supposed to.”

“I wasn’t _looking_ for an opportunity. This just happened to be one that required it.”

“No situation requires violence, listen to yourself!”

“No, Louis, it so happens that some people just deserve to get hurt.”

The icy cold in Harry’s tone makes Louis visibly flinch, staring at the spirit with his lips apart.

“Yeah, I can imagine why you’d tell yourself that,” he answers, just as sternly.

Harry lets out an obnoxiously exaggerated laugh.

“Louis, I did what I did for you! Not for myself. For you.”

And that is a _huge_ statement from Harry, Louis should realize just how enormous it is, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have time to think it through. He doesn’t have time to care about this, not when he’s still so mad and hurt and humiliated. When he’s still scared.

What he does, is to huff and cross his arms over his chest, eyeing Harry while shaking his head.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” he mutters before storming off, leaving Harry with an upset frown and worried eyes.

 

~

 

Minutes pass as Louis tries to find a place to cool off as far away from Harry as possible. It’s difficult and stressful, because he won’t go back to the bar in fear something similar will happen again, he doesn’t really feel like dancing right now, there’s a lot of people and not a lot of space and Louis can’t find a single familiar face in the entire club and he’s almost beginning to panic, hands trembling and legs growing weaker and weaker as he squeezes past sweaty, tangled-up bodies.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. They were supposed to have fun. Louis was supposed to not fight with Harry for once. He was supposed to have a good time and bring out the very best in Harry, might even to the point where he’d finally enjoy his company.

(The way he feels lost now, a little icy in the spot in his ribcage where his heart is, makes him subconsciously wonder if he doesn’t enjoy Harry’s company more than a little bit already. Which he doesn’t really want to think about, especially not right now. The spirit’s look of shocked hurt still clings onto the inside of Louis’ eyelids.)

Louis kind of knows deep down that this isn’t really Harry’s fault. Not entirely. Louis did after all only react like he did just for the sake of having a reason to lash out. Good or not.

It’s so hard keeping these thoughts far away soon it’s the only thing he can concentrate on, and he only snaps out of it when he crashes into another body, only barely managing to regain his balance in time not to bring them both to the floor.

“Fuck!” he cusses, jumping away. “I didn’t mean to—“

But when he moves closer again and gets a proper look at the so thought stranger, he realizes he quite knows this person.

"Shit, it’s—I totally didn’t watch where I was going, don’t— _Louis_?"

“Niall,” Louis breathes, and without getting to think enough to stop himself, he turns to the cupid and throws his arms around his neck.

Niall stumbles half a step backwards, startled by the sudden embrace, but regains his balance soon enough and hugs Louis back.

“Wow now, what’s going on?” he wonders, voice soft and concerned.

“I hate Harry so much,” Louis sighs into Niall’s neck. It’s a little weird, being taller than someone else for once. “So, so much.”

He can feel Niall’s ribcage expand and sink exaggeratedly in an exasperated sigh.

“I know,” the cupid replies, rubbing Louis’ back comfortingly. “What has he done this time?”

“He’s so fucking—“ Louis sniffles. “He used his powers. He obviously enjoyed it so much as well, and I thought he’d changed but apparently not a damn thing has and I’m—“

“That’s not your problem, though, is it?” Niall interrupts lightly.

Louis stops, frowning in confusion and displeasure, letting go of Niall. “What?”

“You’d hurt that guy too, Louis, you were right on your way—“

“ _You saw it_?”

“Honestly, Harry had been a worse person if he _didn’t_ step in to defend you—“

“ _Niall_!” Louis hisses. “You’re supposed to have my back here. Tell me I’m right.”

Niall bites his lip loosely, throwing a look behind Louis’ back.

“Look,” he says, pulling Louis closer to speak into his ear. “You’re not being fair at all. Don’t be so hard on him.”

Louis snaps his body back to give Niall his most expressive stare.

“What—I’m in the wrong here! I have to be hard on him, or he’s never going to _change_ , and like, he, he handled the whole thing wrong and blew it up and made me look weak and dumb and—“

“Honestly, Louis, don’t act like if you possessed Harry’s powers you wouldn’t have used them to get rid of that asshole,” Niall sighs. “I don’t think that’s actually what your problem is.”

“You’re probably right,” Louis agrees. “My general problem is the fact that Harry’s an insufferable, awful, arrogant—“

“ _No_.” Niall cuts him off before he has a chance to finish, and he wants to protest but the displeased look on Niall’s face shuts Louis up quite quickly. “It’s so evident he’s been doing well for longer than you want to admit. He’s been trying since this whole thing started, remember? He helped you with Gothel, he helped with Wonderland—“

“What?” Louis stops in his tracks, frowning in perplexity. “How do you _know_ these things?”

“—And, might I mention, he used powers in Wonderland, too, and I don’t recall you being this upset, and then _Sleeping Beauty_ , do we even have to _go_ there—“

Louis’ confused but ashamed pout swiftly turns into puzzled skepticism in a microsecond.

“What? Harry didn’t do shit for Jesy.”

Niall glares at him.

“Have you seriously forgotten that he offered to get the cure for her illness?”

Louis’ mind is completely blank. What is Niall even talking about? There’s no ‘cure’ for black magic.

Apparently Louis’ oblivion really gets Niall heated, as he groans loudly and starts ranting once again.

“You’re _smart_ , Louis. You know that since Harry knew that there could be a possible treatment for Sleeping Beauty’s illness, he could’ve just stayed silent and let her _suffer_. That’d be reasonable for his character even! But _no_ , Louis, he went back, and he talked to her, and he offered her his genuine and good hearted help and—oh my god, you had no idea, did you?”

No. No, Louis didn’t exactly have an idea.

He can’t even gain enough control over his muscles to shut his jaw close in shock as his head slowly starts spinning madly. He remembers Harry running away just in time for cutting Taylor’s hair, remembers thinking of those actions with disdain, remember not thinking more of it than Harry trying to get away with not helping.

This is a lot for Louis to take in during a mere timespan of thirty minutes. His head is a disoriented and confused haze, but he tries to break through the chaos and the loudly pumping music of the club for long enough to make out following three statements.

This means Harry cared about a stranger enough to go against his own calling.

This means that since Harry didn’t tell even anyone about this, he can’t even have done it for personal gain.

This means Harry has been a tolerable person for a lot longer than Louis has known.

Louis is _fuming_.

“How…” he breathes, voice shaky with suppressed anger. “Where is he?”

Niall widens his eyes, looking at Louis with a little alarm. “Louis, are you sure you want to…”

“Since you already seem to know everything else, I mean.”

“Lou—“

“ _I know you know where he is._ ”

There is a moment of intense eye contact, before Niall sighs deeply and scratches his neck.

“Fine,” he gives in. “I think he’s off to the restrooms.”

He barely gets time to finish before Louis is off in bolt like speed.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like. wow. i'm really sorry. 
> 
> turns out my writing abilities has not been On Top this winter. i've been surviving on about 2 hours of sunshine a day and i Need sun and warmth to function properly and i've had neither. i also feel like shit when i can't write and that results in me being even more unable to write which is a vicious circle. i hope this will make up for the long wait a lil tho so here is roughly 8k of harry and louis centered partying and fighting. what's actually quite nice tho is that i originally wrote over 11k in this chapter, but in the end i split it up bc i thought it'd be a bit too much all at once, bUT that means a good part of the next chapter is already written so?? nice?? i hope this is fairly enjoyable.
> 
> alsO some more nice music that inspires this fic as i am complete music trash are;   
> both ways - quietdrive  
> only love can hurt like this - paloma faith   
> she is the sunlight - trading yesterday for louis   
> the good, the bad and the dirty - panic! at the disco for harry (honestLY HOW GOOD IS THEIR NEW ALBUM I NEED TO LIE DOWN)
> 
> thanks to every single one of you who waited and commented and gave kudos and came to talk to me on my tumblr (@tequiladimples *wink, wink* *nudge, nudge*) i honestly am not worthy this treatment i love you so so so much. thank you for providing me with motivation to keep writing and for being overall beautiful humans xxxx


	16. chapter 14; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some sexual content in the beginning of the chapter. be safe lil cloud xxx

The restroom is surprisingly empty, Louis notes as a bypassing thought when he storms in, breath heavy and fists clenched. Only two or three stalls are locked and the space outside is completely void of people.

Well. Except for one person who’s currently standing completely still in front of a mirror, staring profusely into his own eyes.

Louis’ rage blossoms like the color of autumn leaves. Harry is going to pay. For what more exactly, Louis isn’t completely sure of yet, but fuck is he going to pay for it.

“Harry Styles,” he grits out through his tightly shut jaw.

Harry flinches and snaps his gaze away from his own reflection, falling on Louis. He’s clearly startled, as he almost stumbles backwards, pulling a stressed hand through his hair. Louis hates it when he does that. Louis hates how good Harry’s hair looks.

“Louis,” he greets him. “Always a pleasure?”

Louis does not have time for polite greetings with ironic undertones at the moment. He is on a mission.

“Fuck you, Harry,” he exclaims, diving straight into it.

Harry’s face drops comically from puzzlement to fatigue.

“What have I done this time?” he sighs. “Did the thought of breathing the same air as me disrespect you?”

Yeah, as a matter of fact, that thought does disrespect Louis a lot.

“You don’t get to _do_ this.” Louis focuses his attention on his finger, poking it roughly into the point where Harry’s heart should be. He’s warm, in that spot, the fairy notices. Just like himself. Just like any other living, breathing creature. Just like any other being with feelings. With compassion. Louis is getting emotional.

This cannot possibly end well.

Harry’s face is beyond skeptical. He looks at Louis with a furrowed brow, pursing his lips and stopping an eye roll from reaching his face.

“I don’t get to do _what_?” he asks tiredly.

Louis does not have time for his shit. He narrows his eyes in pure disgust and digs his finger more forcefully into Harry’s chest.

“This is so disrespectful. This is _so_ disrespectful.”

His accusations doesn’t exactly have the desired effect on the spirit, who just sighs and blinks rapidly, as if Louis is just _so_ difficult to deal with. Louis is not difficult to deal with. Harry is. Harry and his confusing, out of character motives.

“Look, I’m not sure why you’re still so hung up on this, but I still withstand that the guy deserved—“

A nearly animalistic groan erupts from the aggravated, shorter boy, cutting Harry off mid-sentence.

“Not that, you insufferable tank of _fuckvermin_ ,” he fumes. “You. Helping Sleeping Beauty. Offering to help her with her curse. How _dare_ you humiliate me like this?”

It’s clear Harry is conflicted as to where he should put his attention by now. Let him be stressed, Louis thinks. That makes two of them.

“Wait, what? Who told you?”

“Niall!” Louis flings his arms out from his body in exasperation. “Niall told me, and I have no idea how he knows, but that’s not important! What’s important here is that you’re making me look _stupid_!”

There’s a loaded silence from Harry. Nothing’s quiet, though, the loud music is faintly playing from outside, making Louis even more frustrated than he already is.

At last, the taller boy settles for an incredibly expressive look and a;

“... _What_?”

“Here I’ve gone,” Louis spits. “Here I’ve gone, completely and utterly convinced that you were beyond saving up until just fucking recently. I’ve been—from the moment we met I’ve hated you for being so heartless, and dumb, and infuriating, and _mean_ ,” he pokes his finger a little harder into Harry’s chest with every adjective. “And what do you do? You go and do _good_ _things_? On your own? _Behind my back_? No. Fuck you. _Fuck_ you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this. I can’t believe you let me be a snarky and horrible person when I could’ve been a snarky but slightly supportive person from the very beginning. This is an offense upon my entire character.”

He finishes his rant with collecting all the anger he can muster into one single look and then impatiently awaits the, hopefully extremely good, explanation.

Harry looks blankly at him for a couple of minutes, opening and closing his mouth numerous times in search for a good reply. Every time he presses his mouth shut again, his lips plump out in a way that makes them look so unbelievably soft Louis almost loses his concentration. They look like soft silk cushions. If Louis would be an actual pixie, he would quite like to sleep on them. Nuzzle his small head into Harry’s cupid’s bow, fit himself into the small dip in the middle of his lower lip.

Louis is getting very, very off the subject. He’s angry with Harry. Incredibly so, as well. It’s time to focus.

Harry has been quiet for quite a while, still not knowing what to say to all of this. In the end of it, though, he does finally make a sound, and his voice is raspy with startlement.

“What, per definition, is ‘fuckvermin’?”

Louis wants to shove a foot down his own throat in frustration.

"I hate you so much,” Louis shakes his head, “I hate you so much.”

“And like, an entire tank? _An entire tank_ of fuckvermin, that’s a lot and I don’t even know what it is, I’m actually so intrigued here could you please go into detail about—“

“Are you—“ Louis stops to stare in what would’ve been amazement if he hadn’t been so goddamn angry. “—rambling? Right now?”

Harry goes a shade of pink and Louis is not charmed.

“Why are you so torn up about this?” Harry just asks, ignoring Louis’ question. Not that Louis minds.

“Because I fucking hate being wrong, Harry, that’s why. You make me feel stupid because I didn’t know you’d done something selfless and, you know, _kind_ so early on, so I’ve gone and been mean and hard on you because as far as I knew, I had a fucking purpose, and now it’s proven that _whoops_ , maybe I didn’t, and what reason do I have _now_ to hate you—“

And then he stops abruptly and panics because he’s revealing way too much, he’s coming too close to the actual vulnerable truth, so he rapidly launches his body forward, kissing Harry. Again. And he’s not sure why this keep happening so frequently considering that he hates him, he really, truly and honestly hates Harry’s mere being. But he doesn’t want to question it.

However, it’s fine because Harry goes along with it very easily, starting to draw them backwards into the room. Louis isn’t actually sure what his target is, until there’s the sound of a door opening and closing, and he opens his eyes to see they’re in one of the stalls.

The smaller boy is immediately pushed against a wall, and he makes sure to use it to his advantage, to push his back into it so he can push his hips out with as much force as he can, rolling them against Harry’s growing bulge.

Harry makes a disgruntled sound, trying to avoid hitting the toilet seat as he presses closer to Louis.

“This is even less space than last time,” he mutters and Louis almost wants to laugh because something’s about to happen again and it wasn’t even Harry who started this time. He pulls Harry back in to silence the part of his mind wondering how many times he will promise to never touch Harry again and then break it until he finally follows through.

“Hate you,” he says again, for good measure, as he runs his hands up and down Harry’s ribcage. In case his willingness would make Harry momentarily forget. Because. Because Louis certainly didn’t forget. He is always aware. He doesn’t need his own reminder.

He doesn’t. But he guesses it doesn’t hurt, either.

They’re now grinding their hips against each other during breathy moans and whimpers, and Louis can’t stand this a lot longer. As he flutter his eyes open for a couple of seconds, gets a glimpse of Harry’s relaxed and flushed face, he realizes that he doesn’t just want this to be like last time. He doesn’t just want to let Harry do all the work. He wants to get Harry in the same state as Harry has gotten him. He needs to.

“What—“ he pronounces, slurring a little. “What you did to me last time, I want to do that. To you.”

Harry pulls his head back a little to make it possible to fully lock Louis’ wide gaze with his own.

“Lou, you don’t have to—“

_Lou_.

A nickname. A _nice_ nickname. A nickname that isn’t made to annoy the shit out of him.

It drives Louis insane, and he bucks his hips up against Harry again, tightening his grip on the curls.

“I want to,” he almost pleads. “Want to do this so bad.”

He’s going to be so mortified, thinking back on this later. Right now, he does not even care a little bit.

Harry is completely still for a moment, watching the shorter boy with surprise and something remarkably alike amazement.

He breathes sharply as he comes back to life, nodding and flicking his fringe away from his face.

“Of course,” he breathes, making Louis light up. “If you really want to.”

Louis nods a little too eagerly, and then reaches down with as much confidence he can muster to unbutton Harry’s frustratingly tight jeans.

Despite the jeans looking like they’ve been painted on, Louis does manage to push them down mid-thigh, one finger hooked in the hem of Harry’s black boxers. He does hesitate a little then, no matter how sure of himself he’s trying to act, because he has, after all, no idea what he’s doing.

This isn’t the time for a mental crisis, but Louis can’t stop one from creeping up on him anyway. He wants this. He wants to be able to do this. He wants to do this for Harry.

The thing is, Harry is experienced. Louis doesn’t know how many people has done this and more to Harry before him, but he has no doubt that it’s many and that all of them were probably very experienced, too.

And then there’s Louis, and he hasn’t even touched his own dick yet. And here he is, and he’s supposed to compare to all the other people Harry has done this with?

Harry’s breath is still heavy, and his pants are obviously tenting, but he still has time to frown concernedly when he notices Louis’ hesitance.

“You don’t have to—“ he starts, voice rough and a tad deeper than usual, but still very soft. Louis thinks of torn silk or thorny roses.

And Louis could cry because Harry isn’t supposed to be this gentle with anyone but yet here they are, and he’s even more determined that he wants to try and do this.

“No, it’s not—“ Louis bites his lip, trying to explain. “I want to. I’ve just—I might just not be very good.”

“Hey now, none of that.” Harry frowns, raising one hand to stroke his finger along Louis’ jaw. “Out of all things you should worry about that is not—I’ll—guide you through it. It’s fine.”

He’s so insufferably caring all of a sudden—as soon as they get close like this, in the situations Louis is the most vulnerable to pain or humiliation, that’s when Harry’s eye rolls and mocking suddenly stops. Making sure Louis is alright and comfortable, complimenting his insecurities and assuring over and over again that the fairy never should feel obligated to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

It doesn’t make sense at all. And it also makes it extremely hard for Louis to not look at him with admiration in these moments. He’s just confused, is all. Because this is the same creature he hates more than anyone he’s ever met, so that he’s the same person Louis trusts enough to let in this close upon himself…

One day Louis will understand his actions, but today is not that day.

He breathes deeply, trying to keep the sunshine that’s expanding inside his body from Harry’s reassurance under control. Then he nods.

“Right,” he mumbles, as the hand he has on Harry’s boxers unfreezes and he tugs them down slowly.

Harry’s cock is hard and leaking already and Louis’ breath hitches a little at the sight. Without really thinking much further, he lifts his hand a little and runs his thumb along a vein on the underside, and Harry lets out a shuddery breath and leans his head back against the bathroom wall.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Okay.”

“Where do I put my hands?” Louis purses his lips, refusing to look at Harry as he asks, already embarrassed that he even has to ask.

“You, uh—here.” Harry takes Louis’ hand, wrapping the small fingers around his shaft with his own slender ones. “And then move it up and down. Remember how I did?”

Yeah, Louis does quite remember. With still unsure hands he starts moving his fist up and down slowly to test the waters, daring to look up at Harry’s face to see whether the response is positive or not.

When Louis goes up to stroke his palm against the slit, Harry’s eyelids flutter, and Louis takes that as a good sign. He looks down again to hide the proud smile that’s threatening to take over his features.

“You’re—doing so good,” Harry promises, nudging his hips forward into Louis’ hand. “Move a little faster.”

So Louis does, further fueled by the praise, keeps pumping his hand up and down and memorizes everything he does that makes Harry’s breath slightly more uneven or his jaw go slack, making sure to thumb at the head and stroke all the way down to the base.

When he starts twisting his grip as well as he brings it down Harry’s cock is when Harry actually lets out a soft moan, and it makes Louis’ vision blurry with pride and satisfaction, and he keeps doing it every time, quickening the pace on Harry’s demand.

“Come here,” Harry murmurs. “Don’t stop.”

With that, he brings Louis’ head in by the neck to attach their lips again, licking into Louis’ mouth until Louis is so weak in the knees he can barely stand straight and his own cock is pressing desperately against the strained fabric of his jeans. He doesn’t stop though, and soon Harry’s pulling away so that their lips are touching just the slightest, and Louis feels the warmth and wetness when the spirit speaks.

“’M close,” he utters, and it urges Louis on even more to do his very best, and he can’t help but to also buck his own hips into Harry’s thigh for some friction of his own, too lost to even be embarrassed as he rubs against the bare, smooth skin and soon enough he’s close to coming, as well.

Harry finishes first with a suppressed moan, and Louis is not far behind as he—once again—comes in his pants. He’s slightly embarrassed, but not enough to regret anything. Yet.

Nothing is said for the first couple of seconds as they both catch their breath. Louis doesn’t know what to say, Harry obviously doesn’t either, as he slowly reaches for some tissues.

That’s when Niall bursts into the booth, making both Harry and Louis yelp and Louis is pretty sure he flinches into another dimension.  

They both stare at Niall with horror, and Louis thinks, why the _fuck_ didn’t they lock the door.

He also thinks a never-ending stream of curse words as his thoughts collide and whirl inside his head, frantically wondering what the fuck they were supposed to do now. No one were supposed to know. It’s bad enough already that it’s even happening. And if there is one person out of the three others Harry and Louis have come to know during this journey, the cupid is pretty much the last person Louis would want to know.

He’s ready for Niall to make it a big deal. He’s preparing with all his might for the positively massive lash out that Niall’s going to do now, for the mix of cockiness and exasperation that Louis’ only ever seen Niall pull of in his life.

Niall doesn’t move at all. He doesn’t even widen his eyes a little. He just throws them an urgent look that has nothing to do with the situation at hand, and he opens his mouth to speak hastily.

“We need to get out of here.”

“What?” Harry and Louis just stare, not sure if they’re referring to Niall literally not reacting at all to the situation, or his statement. “ _Why_?”

“As heroic and kickass as your treatment of that dick in the bar was, Harry, it wasn’t exactly subtle. People are talking and speculating and they’re confused—some are looking for you. It’s just really bad. We need to get out of here. Finish up and then hurry.”

And with those words, he just shuts the stall door again, and Louis and Harry hear rapid steps fading away.

Everything’s drop dead quiet for several seconds, the two boys just staring blankly before themselves trying to make sense of what just happened.

“He didn’t even blink,” Harry states with wonder.

”Nothing,” Louis agrees with wide eyes, slowly shaking his head. ”The things he must’ve seen.”

Harry makes an almost choking noise of laughter, before properly zipping his pants and moving forward to open the stall door. When Louis starts walking, he can properly feel the cold stickiness that’s now once more apparent in his pants, and he groans.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to walk around with sticky underwear _again_ ,” Louis complaints accusingly.

Harry’s smile is a little too smug for Louis’ liking, and the spirit’s answer is effortless and light.

“Well. If you take off a few layers next time as well, we won’t have that problem.”

Louis sputters, the words _next time_ exploding into tiny, confused screams of distress in his head and he stays completely still in his spot for a short amount of time, until Harry pulls him along by his arm.

“Fuck, I hope it’s not too bad,” the spirit mutters as they approach the bathroom door. “If enough people saw, then—“

As soon as they close the door behind them, entering the dancefloor again, the people close enough to notice them immediately react. Whispers, pointing and backing away is to be seen from all parts and Louis thinks, gossip must spread very fast. He’s used to that, it does in the forest as well, but he’s usually on the gossiping side, then.

This is kind of terrifying, considering humans are under no circumstances supposed to know about any of their existence, and Harry put that on the line for Louis. As Harry grips around Louis’ wrist and pulls him through the thick wall of people that’s increasingly building as the humans realize that this is the person they saw, the one who brought another man to the ground in pain by looking at him, the one who made said man flee for his life. Harry doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, just heads straight for the exit with Louis tagging along slightly startled and a little out of it.

They do manage to get out of there, though, the cold, sharp air hitting Louis’ face immediately as a violent, but not entirely unwelcome contrast to the hot, steamy club. Niall is already standing out there with Liam and Zayn, and Louis immediately understands that the two must be way more intoxicated than he is. Or was, as the pleasant buzz has kind of worn off and now his mind is just slow and a tiny bit hazy.

The way Zayn and Liam are clinging to each other, giggling and sharing body heat as swaying back and forth as if they haven’t understood the seriousness of the situation at all, bugs Louis, and it clearly makes Niall look at them with a single raised eyebrow.

“If they hadn’t actually been grinding on each other all night I’d be so annoyed with them,” he sighs. “This is great progress. I can’t help but love it when job is easy.”

The love drunk pair isn’t even listening, now hissing with laughter about something probably no one but them would find funny.

“So, I’m going to call a cab for these two,” Niall states. “Because it’s necessary for work. And you can just make your own way home and I’ll come as soon as I’ve paid for the cab. Sounds good?”

Louis and Harry nods in unison. It does sound good. They don’t even reflect over the fact that they usually at least give a sour frown or a deprecating sigh whenever they have to spend time alone with each other. Niall smirks, barely noticeable.

“See you at home.”

 

~

As Harry and Louis dissolves in front of Niall, the cupid can’t help but to laugh to himself in pure victory. He’s making progress. Things aren’t hopeless and he’s good at his job again. All is well.

~

The first thing Louis does when they get to the apartment, is to immediately switch into a new pair of underwear, sighing in relief as the icky feeling goes away. Next thing on his bucket list is to go to the kitchen to get himself a tall glass of water, and he does, emptying it all in a matter of seconds. It’s cold and fresh and not quite like home but then again, that’s hard to find. This tastes a lot better than liquor.

He’s so caught up in how delicious water is he doesn’t even hear Harry standing in the doorway until the spirit coughs quietly to make his presence known.

Louis puts his glass down in the sink and turns to Harry, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I… I need to get the medicine.” Harry is stammering, and Louis is… amazed. “For, uh. Jesy. I need.” His feet are poking inwards, and though his voice is determined, his body language tells a completely different story. Harry still so not used to these situations, but he’s trying, he’s trying so hard, and it makes Louis want to shed a few tears because it’s… It’s such a lovely look on him.

Louis is quiet for a moment, something slowly bubbling up in his belly, and then he nods quickly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you do. How do we get it?”

Harry looks up again at the ‘we’, immediately looking a little surer, his back a little straighter.

“We’d need—god, I don’t know, we need a doctor’s advice on this. We need a prescription or something. We can’t just grab the first best thing because medicine is... complicated.”

“Okay,” Louis nods. “And how do we get a doctor to write us a prescription?”

_We. We. We._

“Unless you’re ill, I’m pretty sure they will not do a single thing.”

Louis frowns as he sinks into thought, trying to figure out how exactly this is going to work. They need to do this, is the only thing he knows, not just for Jesy’s sake, but also for Harry’s. Louis will be _damned_ if Harry’s first own initiative at doing a good will be hopelessly washed down the drain.

As it is, he only sees one option, really. And though it’s not very ethically correct, he’s very ready to go through with it.

“Well,” Louis says. “I guess one of us will have to have narcolepsy for the day.”

Harry looks up in surprise at Louis’ out of character reply, and when he sees that the smaller boy is smirking, he mimics the expression.

(It’s not that this is completely unfamiliar—this is the Louis who fake cried his way out of Mother Hulda’s pitch, and Harry quite likes that side of him.)

“Would you like the honor?”

Louis puts a hand on his chest, inhaling dramatically. He _loves_ a bit of acting.

“I would love to.”

 

~

It’s morning. Or. Afternoon. It’s 1pm and Louis hasn’t ever slept this long, but he’s now sitting at the kitchen table in Zayn’s apartment with Harry in the chair opposite him and Liam next to him, discussing how the anticipated doctor’s visit should go down. Liam’s filled them in on every aspect of Jesy’s condition he knows, so that Louis would have the answer to—hopefully—every question the doctor will ask, to get the right medication. It’s a risky thing to do, but they’ve all agreed that they’re willing to try. Liam will also speak to Zayn about fixing Louis up with a fake ID as well, as they’re going to need it when they go to the pharmacy later.

Louis knows they could probably get in trouble if anyone found out about this. Lying usually gets you into very uncomfortable positions and don’t ever get him wrong, Louis isn’t a liar. He is brutally honest and proud. Except for a tiny emergency here and there, maybe, to save himself from unnecessary discomfort, of course. Like any other breathing creature.

But still, pretty understandably, he is a little wary about doing this. It’s his idea, he _knows_ , and he doesn’t regret it at all, but it doesn’t mean his morals are completely gone.

Shortly, he’s feeling a little faint when he actually starts thinking about the fact that he’ll have to pretend to have an illness he doesn’t really know a single thing about.

So when Harry starts talking about them not having to worry about time, because he’ll just take them both there in a second, Louis has to put his foot down. If there’s any chance that he’s actually going to do this, he’s going to need some serious fresh air to prepare. It’s what he always needs to calm himself down, he needs some sort of outside environment, some sense of comfort and home. He needs to surround himself with nature, not be a part of it.

“No,” Louis protests quickly. “I’m on Earth. I’ve dreamed about exploring since I knew it was a thing. Unless the nearest hospital is half a day’s journey away, we will _walk_.”

Harry groans a little, tipping his head back just to express how energy draining the mere thought is. Louis doesn’t care. He knows Harry doesn’t have a problem with walking—doesn’t need to sleep, doesn’t get out of breath—so he’s not going to let him take this away. Louis will see London. Louis will get his calming stroll. He _will_.

“This isn’t negotiable,” he enlightens the spirit, just so that there are no mistakes to be made.

“I figured,” Harry muttered. “Hold on then and I’ll find the hospital. We might have to take the tube for a bit, though. I wouldn’t bet a hospital is the easiest to find in these quarters.”

Said and done, Harry does disappear for a few short seconds, and when he’s back he ruffles his hair a little to push it away from his eyes and he does a quick nod as if to confirm he knows where to go.

“Let’s go, then,” he states, nodding to a lit up street to their right. “This way.”

 

~

 

Louis is curious.

It’s just who he is in general, but he looks over to Harry now, silence just falling comfortably on their shoulders after a while of fun bickering—not that he’d ever admit it as fun out loud—and he’s more curious than ever. He’s understood by now that Harry’s upbringing is a touchy subject, which is understandable if you consider he’s been raised by the goddess of chaos.

But he just _wants to know_. So, so badly. And he has no idea how to bring this up casually, he doesn’t even think there’s actually a way now that he considers it, and that makes it really hard for him.

He just wants to _understand_. With every single humane thing Harry does, Louis just wants to understand more and more, because if Harry’s going to make a habit of proving him wrong like this, Louis would desperately like to make a habit of avoiding it. And for that to work, he needs to _know_ the spirit.

Louis is so lost in thought, that when Harry breaks the silence, he’s startled, and when he actually realizes what the taller boy has asked he sweats a little.

“Do you honestly hate me?” Harry looks genuine.

Louis shuts his eyes close, and he very quickly and nonchalantly says “yes, I do,” but the words lay weirdly in his mouth.

Harry hums quietly and everything goes silent once again. Louis doesn’t know why his entire body tells him _wrong_.

“Well, that’s just too bad,” Harry sighs, finally. “Because I don’t hate you.”

Something twists uncomfortably in Louis’ stomach at that. He can’t even tell what emotion it is, if it’s surprise or guilt or embarrassment, but it’s not light and lively enough to be butterflies. Which wouldn’t make sense, anyway.

Louis scoffs, trying to convince himself rather than Harry that the spirit’s words are in fact, untrue.

“That’s a huge lie.”

“I wish it was,” Harry mumbles flatly. “You’re still the most annoying breathing creature I’ve ever met. But I’ve know a lot of hate, and I don’t hate you.”

Louis is going to be blunt; he kind of feels like a major dick now. It’s only fun to be rude to someone if they’re rude back, and Harry isn’t right now. He decided to be painfully honest, and Louis is quite frankly offended that he’s putting Louis on the line like this. He likes to not face any positive emotions regarding Harry ever, thank you very much. Even if he has to. Even if they’re there.

“I…” he tries hesitantly. ”I might not completely loathe you. Maybe.”

That does bring a short laughter from Harry, who takes a deep breath and looks down on the fairy with amusement, which, Louis doesn’t know if he should be content or sad that ‘I might not completely loath you’ is enough to make Harry this happy.

“Please don’t ever start being afraid of me,” he says, laughter still embedded in the crinkles by his eyes.

“What is there to be afraid of,” Louis deadpans. He’s very proud of how emotionless the statement, rather than question, sounded, considering he does feel a little like his head is swimming in syrup from the way Harry looks at him.

It’s supposed to be a harsh and slightly insulting reply, but it makes Harry turn his head away to hide a grin, and even though that hadn’t been the reaction Louis was going for, he isn’t exactly displeased with it.

Louis doesn’t know if it’d be a good idea to ask any of the questions he wants to ask now because Harry is visibly in a good mood, or bad because said questions might ruin that for him.

He decides the first option, not able to hold back his curiosity any longer.

“Can I ask you something now?” Louis looks down on his feet, kicking at a couple of pebbles on the grey concrete.

“Sure,” Harry shrugs, still seemingly relaxed. Louis hopes it stays that way, as he inhales to speak. He figures he’ll start with a question that’s not very personal, to test the waters a little, warm Harry up to it.

“You don’t—you don’t have to answer, I guess,” he says slowly. ”But, uh… Well, I feel like maybe you know more about this whole ordeal than you’re telling me. Us. And since we kind of know what it is now and no one else seems to have figured it out yet, it’d help if we know as much as possible. All of us, that is. So I guess my question is… Do you know what’s going on with the portals?”

Silence. Shoes against concrete. Silence.

”I don’t know anything of use,” Harry finally says, shortly and factually, but he doesn’t sound upset so Louis exhales, shoulders sinking.

“Then would it hurt to tell?” he presses carefully.

Harry shrugs again.

“I know that mother’s been trying to do this for a while,” he admits, biting his lip. “Looking for ways that could break the connection between the worlds and stuff, you know. But she couldn’t do it on her own, so this… This can’t be all her work. I have no idea how she did it, but she had someone else do this for her.”

This would explain quite a lot. Louis has always kind of known that Harry knew something—ever since those smug looks in the cafeteria back at UoT when the malfunction was first confirmed.  

“Why didn’t you tell anyone earlier?” he wonders.

“What help would’ve done? Who was there to tell who would listen and then be able to do something about it?”

Niall, Louis wants say. Niall most definitely has contacts in high places and if Harry had told them when they were in Pantheon, he could’ve made sure Jupiter found out.

“I’m sure we could’ve done _something_ ,” Louis just says.

Harry shakes his head. “Listen, it doesn’t matter who I tell—not even Zeus or Hades could fix the portals on their own, because they still wouldn’t know what the actual problem is, and they would all need to communicate between the worlds to get this right and check everything, but now that’s impossible. She’s quite brilliant, my mother, if you think about it.”

Louis doesn’t exactly love the thought, but Harry is unfortunately quite right. It feels very wrong, though, frustrating, that they’re the only ones that they know of that seem to have a theory about what’s wrong, and they can’t do anything. Louis wants to do something.

“Maybe we should… Maybe we should try and get to Tartaros?” Louis suggests lightly. “Maybe we could—“

“ _No_ ,” Harry cuts Louis off immediately, and his voice is so determined Louis flinches at the power of it. “Seriously, don’t even finish that thought. You don’t want to do that.”

It’s not intimidating as much as surprising, because why wouldn’t Harry want to go home? He’d certainly expressed a will to get to Tartaros when they started this whole excursion. Louis can’t exactly pinpoint a moment where it would’ve made sense for that want to go away.

And definitely not a moment when he himself would be somewhat okay with the idea.

Louis makes a face, shrugging lightly. “Thought you wanted that, though.”

Harry doesn’t say anything.

They’re quiet the rest of the way, Louis not sure how to strike up a conversation again after that, and Harry not seeming very keen on one, either. It’s fine, though. Louis’ other questions can wait. He doesn’t mind the silence, as it gives him time to properly inspect London. It’s midday and sunny this particular Saturday, the ultimate time for the humans to go out for lunch and do some socializing, and because of that, the streets are currently quite crowded. Every restaurant or coffee shop they pass on the way is crowded and filled with life.

Louis likes it a lot. It’s a different kind of rush and a different kind of calm, watching people scurry around on sidewalks carrying expensive looking bags, or take a seat among their friends at a café to throw themselves headfirst into a conversation, wide eyed and gesticulating for emphasis.

It does take them quite a while to walk, probably an hour give or take, but Louis doesn’t mind at all, and Harry isn’t complaining either. It does give them both a little extra time to think and sort through the information they’ve gotten, and how to do this, too. Which is very well needed, because no matter how much strolling through London’s busy streets calms Louis down, it doesn’t make the small, anxious pounding in his chest disappear completely.

When they finally reach the sleep center, Louis let’s Harry do the talking. He stands on the side, mentally preparing and smiling weakly at the lady in the reception as Harry checks them in, charming as whenever he wants to be.

It all goes pretty quick from there—there’s the hushed bickering in the waiting room, there’s both of them trying to pretend it doesn’t amuse them, and then Louis is called in to see sleep specialist Doctor Johnson. His heart feels a little tight in his chest as he with Harry right behind him walks through the hall and in through a door.

The woman waiting for them is tall, red haired and she has a very sympathetic face, and Louis calms down a little. As Louis starts explaining his problem, he also finds her very easy to talk to, eyes trusting and nonjudgmental, and he relaxes fully, slipping into his character.

“And what does this paralysis feel like?”

“I don’t know, it’s like—“ Louis gestures, as if trying to get a hold on the words he wants out of thin air. “Sometimes it’s just weird things like, I slur a lot. And my facial muscles go all limp and weird sometimes and… Sometimes, not a lot, thank god, but sometimes I’ll just collapse. And sometimes when I wake up or if I get really emotional or after—after sex—I just, I can’t move. I can see and hear and everything, but I can’t move.”

Doctor Johnson nods and her ballpoint pen swoops across the notebook she’s writing in.

“Okay. Only a couple more questions left. You don’t take any medicine that might cause daytime sleepiness or drowsiness?”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Right. How long have you been suffering from these problems?”

“I was… In a coma. After a car accident, a couple of years back. And I guess ever since I woke up it’s been an issue,” Louis says, hoping the insecurity in his voice can pass for nervousness.

Dr. Johnson hums and nods understandingly. 

“Well, to me it does sound like narcolepsy is a pretty good theory,” she states. “Though it does surprise me you haven’t come to us earlier. I’ll send you on for a polysomnogram.”

The sound of glass shattering erupts suddenly and loudly in Louis’ head, and his entire body goes stiff at the unfamiliar term.

“What’s… A polysomnogram?” he asks, trying to sound as calm as possible, and not at all like his heart is suddenly pounding halfway up his throat.

Doctor Johnson smiles, ever so sympathetically. “It’s a kind of measuring test to determine what kind of medicine you need. All you have to do is spend a night at the sleep center and then let the staff do their job. It’s all going to be happening while you’re asleep.”

Louis nods, taking deep breaths and desperately hoping they come off as relief.

Relief is the last thing on Louis’ mind right now, though. Panic is running up and down his nerves and he has to bite down on his cheek a couple of times to not show it. They’re going to do a test on him. They’re going to _measure_ his sleeping pattern. And then they’re going to find nothing wrong, and they’re going to understand that Louis is lying, and—

“Great,” Louis beams at his doctor. “Perfect. Let’s do this.”

Johnson smiles and turns to her desk, sitting down by her computer.

_Shit_.

 

~

 

Harry and Louis leave the hospital with a new appointment for a sleep specialist in five hours and a rising dread within both of them.

“Oh my god,” Louis just keeps repeating, “oh my _god_.”

The doctor is going to be able to tell he’s been lying. Louis is going to go under that machine and they will find absolutely nothing wrong, and he will be a confirmed fraud. Does that kind of thing come with consequences? Can he be imprisoned for this?

You never know. Louis is sweating.

“What the fuck do we _do_?” he demands in a strained whisper, causing Harry to immediately glare.

“I don’t bloody know! Maybe there’s a way to fake a prescription. I could use my powers, I could make someone—“

“What the _fuck_ , Harry,” Louis just interrupts, severely unimpressed. He doesn’t continue, but just lets that statement speak for itself.

It does its job, because Harry rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I know, I get it. I panicked.”

Louis gives him a satisfied nod, and then dives straight back into being worried for his life, because he knows how to prioritize and he’s damn good at it.

“So what do we do?” he asks. “What would a human do? Will I go to jail for this?”

“Look, if the doctors find out that you’ve been lying, they won’t do anything to _you_. They barely ever do, they just shrug and let it go. You’ll be fine. We just… Won’t get the medicine.” Harry sighs deeply, his chest rising and falling irregularly, and a tragic laugh tumbles out. “We won’t get the medicine. And this wouldn’t be a fucking problem if the portals had _worked_ so Jesy could go with us herself without potentially risking her life, but it doesn’t right now. So I just made her an empty promise. And honestly? The portals won’t start working anytime soon. No one important is willing to do what we’re doing and risk getting stuck somewhere they definitely don’t belong. It’s extremely unlikely they’ll find a solution on their own and I just—fuck, I shouldn’t even have offered Jesy my help in the first place.”

Harry’s getting really worked up, Louis is clearly noticing, but where the end of that headed is not at all something he will tolerate. Quick as lightning he snaps his head into Harry’s direction to give him the most disapproving look he can muster.

“I repeat,” he says slowly. “What the _fu_ ck, Harry.”

Harry just groans, stopping in his tracks and runs one hand through his hair in distress as he looks helplessly at Louis.

“You don’t understand. I do this _one thing_ , Louis, just to be selfless and like, righteous and overall to make another creature happy, yeah? And right now, it looks like that’s going to go to shit. And I mean, I tried to help you in the club as well and you got furious with me. I don’t—what if it’s literally impossible for me? To make good things?”

Louis frowns, tilting his head, slightly disconcerted. Where is this coming from?

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this but you’re being kind of… Overdramatic,” Louis says carefully. “It’s not _that_ big of a deal. Jesy will understand. Your intentions were good. And besides, we still have five hours to figure something out.”

“No.” Harry is shaking his head violently, and when Louis looks down on the spirit’s hands he sees they’re shaking. An icing kind of itch washes into his pores and takes root in his ribcage when he realizes Harry is starting to _panic_. “No. Stop. I can’t keep failing like this. I can’t go out of my way to contradict my nature and my—fuck, my _family_ , when it’s all going to be in vain. I can’t afford doing this in vain, it needs to be _worth_ something, I need— _validation_. I need to know that I’m not _risking my life_ like this just to find that it’s not making anything better, it needs to be—“

This is so out of place. Louis has by now seen many sides to Harry that he seriously doubted were existent at first, he’s seen him happy and hurt and quiet and genuine.

But not once, has Harry been on the verge of a breakdown like this. Not even close, and it makes Louis feel all kinds of unbearable things because this isn’t Harry. This isn’t something Louis ever thought he’d get to see, but it’s still so painfully _real,_ and Louis wants to wrap him up in a blanket, or fold him carefully and put him away somewhere safe.

Louis still isn’t entirely sure where all of this is even coming from, so even though he’s more than a little confused, there’s still an icy hand squeezing his heart and veins together at the sound of Harry’s voice breaking, so he does all he knows how to in a situation like this.

He walks closer, not giving himself time to hesitate or think, and he flings his arms around Harry’s body, locking them around his middle. He holds himself there, completely still, resting his head under Harry’s chin.

It’s definitely something he’s going to regret later, but it does have the desired effect, as Harry completely freezes in his tracks, not even _breathing_ at first. Time stops. The world pauses. And then, with a shudder and a hitched exhale, he lifts his arms to reciprocate the embrace. Louis feels Harry’s chest rise and fall in small trembles, and he furrows his eyebrows and dares stroking slowly with his thumbs over the small patches of cotton clad skin he can reach on Harry’s back.

“What are you so _scared_ of?” Louis asks into Harry’s shoulder.

It’s quiet for so long Louis is starting to want to take the question back, afraid he might’ve made things worse when that really isn’t what he’s going for.

But then Harry breathes, and then he speaks, and then things… make sort of sense.

“Do you… Do you know what my mother will do to me,” he mumbles, “if she finds out what I’m doing? Or. When,” he corrects himself with a miserable, throaty laugh. “ _When_ she finds out.”

Louis merely shakes his head, letting Harry do the talking.

“As I’ve mentioned before, she could disown me,” Harry continues. “If I’m lucky. Or she could rip me to pieces. Lock me up. Throw me to the lost souls. I could—she could kill me. She could do that.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say. “Harry, she’s—she’s your _mother_ , she wouldn’t—“

“—She could do that.” Harry interruption is firm and final, and Louis stomach twists.

And Louis understands. He does, now. It finally clicks for him.

Louis just kind of always assumed that Harry has a hard time breaking his hurtful habits because it’s just not in his nature. That he’s been finding it hard because he just thinks it’s hard to be nice.

He hasn’t even given any thought to the fact that Harry might be sacrificing things when he’s trying to change. Important things. Like his life.

A small memory makes itself known in the back of Louis head as he realizes Harry actually has expressed this before. In Wonderland, when Louis’ quips and harshness had become a little too much and Harry had been tired.

_I’ve done things my mother would literally disown me for, Louis_.

Louis hadn’t really put much focus on that part, too angry about Harry wanting some kind of special treatment for simply being a good person to sit down and make a thorough analysis.

He doesn’t regret what he’d said that time, because he was right. But he does wish he would’ve looked a little closer and realized that yeah, it’s probably really frustrating to constantly make lethal choices and not ever get recognition.

“Let’s not do this,” he says softly, trying to sound stable and reliable, even though he’s starting to feel sick with guilt. “We can figure this out. We have done this far, and we’re going to do it now, as well. Because honestly? We’re both so damn smart. Brilliant. And we’re going to make this.”

Harry just inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales, but when he talks again, Louis can hear a faint smile in his voice.

“You think I’m brilliant? We need to start celebrating this moment as a religious holiday.”

“Well, I’m quite obviously fucking fantastic and I can’t help I rub off on people. You have a long way to go, though.”

Harry’s grips tightens a little, and Louis widens his eyes but welcomes it. His mind is pressing all red emergency buttons it can possibly find, as Louis realizes how incredibly _emotional_ Harry actually is.

When people are emotional, that’s when Louis’ walls crumble, because it’s the most precious trait he can ever find in another creature.

They stand there a long time, wrapped up in each other and pushing away any kind of thoughts about the fact that this should be feeling wrong. Because it doesn’t feel wrong, is the thing. Its quite nice, this. Not just the comfortable body heat, but also the understanding and empathy. It’s all just very cozy in the middle of this awful dilemma, and it’s bittersweet but fantastic.

“We… We might have a bit of hope,” Harry states slowly, suddenly, and Louis’ closed eyes shoot open. “Maybe. If, possibly… By a chance…”

The fairy finally lets go, backing away to look at Harry properly, urging the spirit on.

“ _What_ , Harold?”

Harry is quiet for a while, furrowing his eyebrows and thinking things through.

“There are… spirits,” he tries. “In Greek we call them the oneiori, but I’m sure they have some simplified boring name in the Roman empires. They’re a little like—like my kind, I guess. Wonderland produces a universe where dreams can be made, Hypnos and Somnus keep the place in check, and they send out spirits to assign the dreams to people. There are spirit of dreams. If we go and ask Niall, maybe he knows a way to reach one. That way… They could make you fall asleep and wake up on command. Match symptoms. So if we got one of those to help us… We could do this.”

Louis is quiet for a moment, sucking up the information like a dried sponge. This sounds kind of promising.

“Okay. Are we sure there’s someone close enough for us to get in contact with?”

“Even if no one’s in our direct surroundings, both Niall and I can get wherever we want as fast as we want. If there’s a lonely spirit in Alaska right now, one of us could get them. But we probably won’t have to go that far.”

“No?” Not that Louis understands what Alaska is. He just knows Earth is big, and that things could be harder to accomplish because of that.

“No. There are billions of spirits,” Harry says shortly. “Of all kinds. Someone is bound to get stuck here. I’ve recognized the presence of my siblings in a couple of places already.”

It sounds good enough. Louis dares to be positive about this, he does. They can make it.

(They make kind of a good team, he thinks. Kind of.)

“So billions of siblings and you managed to become the parent favorite,” he figures as they start walking again, picking up speed at new hope fuels their motivation. “Does your mother have really low standards or something?”

Harry laughs loudly. “No, I just really wanted her to love me so I became the most excessive workaholic you’ve ever seen. She doesn’t exactly give approval away for free.”

There’s a lot behind that statement, Louis kind of understands. Harry says it with a self-deprecating smirk like it’s a funny joke, but Louis thinks if that’s the light sort of stuff you have to make fun of yourself for, there can’t be a lot of happy memories underneath. And that makes him a little sad and a little lost, and a little up for giving Harry another hug.

He doesn’t, because it would be weird and sentimental, so he snorts lightly and keeps quiet.

The silence is a little too thick and a tiny bit too strained to be normal for a while, and when Harry breaks it relief washes over Louis, because he’d have no idea how to start up a conversation again without it sounding forced.

“Okay. The plan. We need to speak to Liam again and get even more information out of him. And then we need to ask Niall if he can fetch a dream spirit for us. And then we need to talk that dream spirit into doing us a favor. If all of these things work out accordingly and within a reasonable amount of time, we might just make this work.”

Louis breathes deeply, shaking some life into his body. Harry has never looked more determined in his life, jaw clenched and eyes firmly dark, and Louis needs to _focus_ because what’s important here is that Harry is this into doing a good thing, he’s gotten all his glow back, and not how admittedly fucking hot it makes him.

(Louis is kind of done pretending Harry isn’t attractive at this point. It’s just a fact. Water is wet, Earth is round, and Harry Styles is hot. Physical attraction doesn’t have to equal emotional attraction, anyway. Even if Louis does find Harry’s company fun. Challenging. Enjoyable at times. Maybe.

He’s getting extremely off the subject.)

“Okay. Alright. Let’s do this.”

Harry nods excitedly.

“I’m going to take your hand now,” he informs, “because we need to get to Zayn’s apartment as fast as possible and traveling the human way is ineffective. Okay?”

Louis just nods, and then a solid warmth is pressuring his hand for a few seconds before he’s turning into air.

(Despite enjoying the feeling of floating, for a split second he does feel a slight disappointment that the lingering of skin against skin didn’t last longer.

If Harry catches that thought, he doesn’t comment on it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK I MADE IT LISTEN THIS IS SUCH AN ACCOMPLISHMENT FOR ME HERE U GO ALMOST 9K NEW N FRESH MATERIAL OH MY GOD
> 
> ok. so hi. i am, after a couple of humble centuries back from my slumber. and i think i need to kinda underline with these kind of long spaces inbetween updates recently that.....,,, i will literally Never abandon this fic. ever. it's not gonna happen. under no circumstances will i put down all this Work and Time into something just to leave it unfinished. that is a Line i do not cross because i was raised in a good home with a decent amount of self respect. so if you're ever worrying that that's the case, it's not. writing is Hard and takes a lot of energy i don't always have. ok. nice. i just wanted to make that clear bc i feel bad xxxx
> 
> alsO as a disclaimer, i have no idea how healthcare in britain works ??? so sorry ???
> 
> two nice lil songs that i listened to a lot are "flashback" by icona pop and "bittersweet" by ARCHIS.
> 
> and once again, thank u soosososos much for waiting and for talking to me on tumblr (@tequiladimples pLS TALK TO ME) and being overall lovely u are the most precious pastries and i Lov U !!! xxxx


	17. chapter 15; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

Louis is so determined when they get back to Zayn’s apartment. He dives straight into business as soon as they walk through the door, and Harry thinks, he knows he found this annoying once, how Louis would act first and think later and be completely ruled by emotions and stubbornness—still does, he swears—but right now, he’s very grateful for that aspect.

“ _Niall_!” he yells at the top of his lungs, startling the whole neighborhood, most probably.

Niall comes rushing to the door, a slightly exasperated glint in his eyes as if he’s scared something’s gone horribly wrong, but seems to calm down when he sees both Harry and Louis standing there in one piece.

He’s about to be proven so wrong, Harry thinks. He almost feels a little bad.

“Did you get any medicine?” he asks curiously, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says, smiling stiffly. “We got an appointment for a ‘polysomnogram’ where they will measure Louis’ sleeping pattern and determine what kind of medicine he needs.”

Niall, bless his heart, immediately understands and morphs his face into something concerned and he just lets out a small “oh”, before falling into silence. Harry sees this as his opportunity to chime in.

“Which is _why_ ,” he starts, making his voice as smooth and pleasant as possible, “we would kind of need your help.”

“Of course,” Niall nods seriously. “Anything.”

Harry tries his best to look the Louis kind of sincere. “Could you possibly get a hold of a dream spirit by any chance?”

Niall’s genuine look falls flat, turning into a frown, and Harry must say, his continuous change of facial expressions is quite a journey. Harry would snicker quietly if he wasn’t on a mission.

 “You want me to… What?” the cupid asks slowly, staring at them with narrowed eyes and worriedly furrowed brows, as if he isn’t quite sure he heard what they said.

“We just want to know if you know where you can get a hold of a dream spirit,” Harry repeats slowly and sweetly, shamelessly making his eyes bigger to emphasize.

He feels Louis watching him and it weirdly makes him want to succeed even more. He literally doesn’t know why, but he always desperately wants Louis to feel… Well. Proud of him. He always wants someone to feel proud of him. His mother never really did, not truly, but Louis _has_ , and once Harry got that warm, fuzzy approval he can’t help but want it all the time.

Call him self-absorbed, but someone treating him like he’s amazing just kind of does it for him.

Niall looks away with an exasperated stare.

“And why,” he sighs, “would you need a dream spirit’s help?”

“Because a dream spirit could come along with Louis to the doctors and make him pass the polysomnogram with genuine results?”

“I mean,” Niall walks around a little back and forth until he sits down in one of the chairs, looking incredibly torn. “I guess that does makes sense. But I wish we didn’t have to get one involved. I hate to say this, but they can be a real fucking pain. They’re emotional, they’re fickle, and they’re lacking any sense of logic. They barely even _think_ when they’re distressed.”

“I don’t mean to be that person, but I’ve dealt with that kind of company since Louis and I fell into the first portal. We’ll be fine.”

Louis gasps sharply, elbowing Harry’s side to make sure Harry knows his dig didn’t go unnoticed. Harry holds back a grin.

“That’s going to burn on your final niceness grade,” Louis mutters.

“Oh no,” Harry deadpans right back. “How will I live.”

Speaking of grades, the thought of his final university grade randomly hits him. Considering how much time they’re spending away, that one’s really going to sting when they get back. Not that he himself cares an exaggerated amount, he just wanted to go to uni because it’d be fun to fuck with other creatures, but if he knows Louis as well as he likes to think, the fairy would probably not take bad grades as lightly as Harry.

He makes a mental note to mention this to Louis some time, just to see his reaction. The fairy purses his lips and widens his eyes in such an excessive way when he’s stressed. He looks like a tiny cartoon character, all wound up and rambling. It’s funny. Louis is funny. Harry doesn’t hate Louis.

(At first Harry was extremely ashamed over the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his dislike up, but as time goes along he can’t help but wonder, doesn’t everyone fall in love with Louis just a little bit? Like, a tiny fragment. He wonders if something doesn’t happen, when you meet Louis the first time that just makes you want to give away the very best pieces of yourself to him. Harry wonders if Louis keeps all those pieces of other people’s goodness locked up and close to his heart, if that’s how Louis always stays so pure, if that’s how he manages to still be so adamant that there’s good in everyone. Even in Harry.

Not that Harry had fallen in love with Louis a little bit or anything, though. Surely the tug of breathlessness when the boy smiled at him or complimented him is about Louis being the first person to genuinely show him kindness, and nothing else. Of course that’ll feel good. Of course Harry will want more of it. Of course Harry’s going to think Louis’ eyes are beautiful, when they’re looking at him like that.)

Niall purses his lips in thought, obviously having some kind of light internal battle with himself, before he finally sighs, shoulders sinking with defeat.

“Fine. Let’s do it,” he nods. “Shouldn’t be that hard to find one. I’ll try to convince one to talk to you.”

Harry subtly raises his fist as trumpets play victoriously in his head, and Louis sighs in relief next to him.

“Thank you,” the fairy says earnestly. “I love you, Niall. You are an important creature and you should be appreciated more.”

“Damn straight I should,” Niall mutters.

~

Their spirit is called Danielle Campbell, and she looks like summer and bubbly giggles.

Her beauty is the first thing Harry notices. Her dark hair is thick and seems to always be moving or whirling around and tugged along by wind, just the tiniest bit, even as she walks in through the door of the mildly crowded Starbucks they’re supposed to meet, immediately spotting Harry and Louis with a knowing smile. She’s all pastel colors—icy blue eyes and cotton candy pink lips that stands in blatant but pleasant contrast to the darkness of her hair and long, black eyelashes. She moves like she floats through life, with gracious steps and her back straight. She reminds Harry a little bit of Eleanor, only less tense and despite her being, probably a little more tolerable.

She looks like a dream. Which would be very suiting given who she is.

She sits—drifts, really—down in her chair opposite Harry and Louis, and as a silence settles in-between them for a couple of seconds she raises an expectant eyebrow.

“So your cupid friend is really convincing,” she starts off with a small smile. “I hope he didn’t put that much effort into something for you to not talk.”

Harry hears Louis come to life beside him, coughing and clearing his throat a little. When the spirit sneaks a peek at him, he notices that Louis’ cheeks are flushed and his eyes a little wider, and Harry thinks that Louis must’ve been just as aware of Danielle’s stunning appearance as himself. That makes Harry’s stomach knot a little. He’d quite like to be the only one to make Louis look like that, as irrational as that is.

“Right, no,” Louis assures her, “no, it wasn’t in vain. We just uh, there’s important stuff happening.”

Danielle fires of a dazzling grin, but her eyes are still not entirely open, guarded, watching. “Figured as much.”

“I’m Harry. I’m from the Greek,” Harry tries. “Louis here is from the Norse. We don’t want to harm you.”

He’s answered with a twitch of Danielle’s left eyebrow, and she casually inspects her long nails while doing so.

“Looking for good company?” she muses, smirking menacingly but not in the vicious way Harry is used to, and it’s confusing for him because he doesn’t quite know where to place her, or what her motives are. He and Louis make eye contact for a few short seconds, deciding with a couple of eyebrow raises and nods that Louis will do the talking on this one.

After all, if Niall is right about dream spirits’ nature, Louis should be the obvious choice as he’s exactly the same. He should know what to say, Harry figures.

“Partly,” the fairy starts as an answer to Danielle’s question. “But, well, I think you’d appreciate it as much as me if there were no hidden motives here, right, so I’m going to go straight to the point and say there is in fact also something we would like you to help us with.”

Danielle drops her smile immediately to instead narrow her eyes in thought, raising her chin and eyeing Louis up and down. There’s a glint in her eye, a glint revealing that she likes him, and something cold twists again inside of Harry.

“You’re adorable,” she says, as if that makes it okay to carry this on. Harry would lie if he said that he hadn’t been there a few times as well. “What do you want from me?”

Louis starts explaining, very calmly and carefully that they have a friend in another world who’s ill and needs their help. All Danielle has to do is to follow Louis to a hospital and for one single night make him match the symptoms of narcolepsy, as close to Jesy’s own symptoms as possible.

“And why would I help you?” Danielle giggles, grazing the back of Louis’ hand currently resting on the table with her smooth fingertips as she talks, and Louis draws it back instantly, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s not act coy,” he says matter-of-factly. “In a faraway universe, a girl has been woken from a sleeping curse and found that she’s left with a kind of chronic illness she doesn’t have a cure for and she’s tormented by this every single day. This is her only hope to at least get it under control and understand her condition. Do you want to take away someone’s happily ever after?”

It’s like flipping a switch. For having been spread into a teasing smile, Danielle’s lower lip now quivers. Wobbles. Trembles. She raises a hand to wipe at the corners of her now wet eyes, and Harry can see Louis widen his eyes in shock because oh god, he hadn’t meant to make her _cry_ , just to understand the seriousness of the situation.

“I don’t, no,” she at last hiccups. “When you put it that way.”

“Hey,” Louis rushes, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We just want you to help us with this. I’m sorry. I just.”

Louis isn’t scary, Harry thinks. He’s small and happy and likes bright colors, and he’s too innocently faithful for his own good.

But he _does_ have his way with words, he does know how to express himself, and he’s not defenseless. Every time Harry is reminded of how savage Louis actually can be when he wants to, there’s a warmth in his chest, almost like pride. It’s what makes Louis able to be so good without ending up a pushover. He knows when he’s being taken advantage of and he knows how to get work done. And even though Harry likes to point out how fantastically irritating it is, he also finds it admirable.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it,” Danielle confirms, wiping at her nose and giving Louis a beautiful smile. “I’ll help your friend to be happy.”

And Louis lights up like sunshine, like constellations of stars, like moonlight, and Harry has to look away because he’s afraid he might go blind from looking for too long, like maybe his eyes will start stinging and colorful spots will blur his vision if he comes too near.

The fairy rises swiftly from his seat to walk (dance) over to Danielle, bending down just a little to give her a big hug. Harry doesn’t know whether to be moved by the sentiment of the situation, or to scream because Louis is very rarely this happy about things Harry do.

He doesn’t know how to handle it, and he knows it’s silly and he will get over it eventually – but he just needs Louis’ approval at all times. Ever since Louis started giving it away, Harry’s been sucking it up and soaking himself with it like flowers waiting for rain in a draught every change he got. It’s not like he wants Louis to like him the _most_ , because that’s unrealistic, but he just—it’s just that tiny, vexing thing again where Louis walks around like every single person in all of the worlds are breathing miracles, except for Harry.

It’s needy, that way of thinking, though, and needy is something Harry absolutely is not. He’s indifferent and unapproachable, and despite enjoying the feeling of making others smile a bit more than he should, he must hold onto his pride. He likes it when people watch him with respect and awe, he likes to make people wait and he likes to see people try to please him. And that probably sounds terrible. He knows it does.

Before Louis, that had been the only way he knew to get feelings of importance, though. Harry hadn’t been presented with alternatives to that, he hadn’t been presented with _options_ before, and that’s the whole reason he’s even here, changing and trying and not abandoning Louis in the first place.

Harry also thinks that he thinks too much. All the time.

He tries to not think all the way to the hospital, Danielle and Louis chatting happily beside him.

 

~

 

The polysomnogram works out wonderfully.

Louis gets to spend the night at the sleep center. Harry gets to watch as the staff attaches sensors to Louis face, to his temples, to his scalp, under his nose, he gets to see how they clutch elastic belts around his stomach, looks on as they bestow sensor after sensor, until there are so many tubes and wires attached to the smaller boy he looks like his life is on the line. Harry feels a little uncomfortable, seeing Louis like this because he looks even smaller than before—which, Harry must say he did doubt the possibility of—but it’s also clear that the fairy is nervous, and so he doesn’t make up for his lack of size in words like he usually would. He just lies there, dainty and docile and quiet, waiting patiently for all the fuss around him to calm down.

It is required for Louis to spend the night alone, meaning Harry has to leave when the setup procedure is finished.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks Louis. “Can you move with all those tubes?”

“It’s actually not that bad,” Louis assures with a small smile. “Can move just fine. ‘M barely feeling them. Is Danielle here?”

Harry just nods, the presence of a spirit very apparent to him, and he’s relieved Danielle is sticking to her mission. He hopes with all his might they can trust her to stay the whole night.

“Okay,” Louis breathes, nodding back. “Off you go. Got to work my magic uninterrupted, don’t I?”

Harry snorts. “Don’t erase Danielle like this. You’re literally just going to sleep.”

“ _Then let Danielle work her magic and me do my just as important part._ ”

A laugh slips out of Harry at Louis’ sour tone. Back again with his desperate need to be heroic.

“Good night, Lou,” he smirks, slowly turning to walk out of there. “See you in the morning.”

“I’ll enjoy every second we’re apart!” Louis calls after him, and Harry doesn’t even bother to contain his grin as he leaves. Louis can’t see him anyway. It doesn’t hurt anyone.

“I’ll be here again as soon as I can, then,” he lets out before stepping out of the room.

In short, when Harry arrives the next morning—after a surprisingly uncomfortable and lonely night without bickering or subconscious cuddling—to pick Louis up and hear the verdict, Danielle is waiting by the entrance already, assuring him that she did everything she’s supposed to do and that Louis is definitely going to be diagnosed. She’s not lying, the doctor will confirm just a few moments later, and Harry can’t help but feel a light sort of flutter in his chest when he realizes that yeah, they didn’t do this in vain. He’s not doing this for nothing. They’re not going to fail.

When Harry and Louis leave the hospital together this time, their steps are a lot lighter and quicker, pace fast with relief and success.

“So… How did it go?” Harry asks to make light conversation.

Louis shrugs and sighs. “I feel extremely bad for Jesy. Worst night of sleep I’ve had in my life, I’m pretty sure.”

“Well.” Harry looks down on the ground, his stomach tingling a little with the achievement of their project. “If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t have gotten the medicine prescription. And now you’ll never have to experience it again.”

Harry takes a few deep breaths, debating on whether or not to go there. Whether he should butt in with a “so this was our first night without each other in a while and that felt a little weird” or “did you also feel strangely uncomfortable to not hear my soft breathing next to you” or “I think I might love you a little bit”.

(Not the last part. Not the last part.)

The corners of Louis’ mouth are pulled upwards. “You are very right. I’m kind of a hero, aren’t I?”

(Maybe the last part. Maybe the last part.)

The moment is considered pretty gone—for the best, Harry figures—and he smirks at the ground.

“Getting there, Lou.”

All that remains to do now is to find a pharmacy and get the medicine. Harry pats Louis’ fake ID that’s currently lying safe and sound in his jean pocket, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him so strong he almost completely forgets the obnoxious part of his brain constantly yelling about all the things that would go wrong. They’re _doing_ this.

It doesn’t take that long getting from the hospital to a pharmacy, considering the hospital is located fairly centrally, their nimble feet making it even easier. A small bell jingles when they enter the store, and Harry’s narrows his eyes a little to get used to all the clinical _white_ in there—making the place seem big and spacious even though it’s the quite opposite.

Behind the counter the pair is approaching stands a boy, and he is freckled, tall, and painfully new at work. His anxiety is thickening the air around him, almost making Harry’s own palms clammy from just looking at him. It’s awful, and Harry promptly feels bad for him at the same time as he hopes sincerely that it won’t cause him and Louis any trouble.

Freckles seems to be perfectly capable of handling their prescription, though, reading through it carefully and then wandering off to get what the creatures has come for.

Louis and Harry can’t help but exchange delighted smiles. This is working out unrealistically well, it’s a dream case scenario. And if, despite everything, this medicine doesn’t work for Jesy, they can always help her visit Earth herself in the future, and at least they’ve tried. They’ve done the most they can to help a friend, and even though the thought that it technically could all be in vain if Jesy doesn’t respond well to the medication tries to make its way into Harry’s conscience, Harry’s not going to let it stick with him. It’ll be worth it. Regardless of what happens, it’s going to be worth it.

Just as Freckles is putting the medication on the desk for Harry and Louis to take, an older woman asks from behind him if he’s checked identification. The boy snaps his head up with a slightly terrified expression engraved in his features.

“N—no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—fuck—I mean, shoot. I—“

He pauses for a moment to breathe. Harry kind of wants to calm him down. Tell him that it’s okay, to take his time, everything’s good.

(He files those thoughts as reason #425 his mother will never want to see him again.)

“Could I, um. Do you have identification with you?” the boy asks, and Harry and Louis nod in unison, Harry giving him the fake ID. Hopefully the boy won’t be able to tell any difference, or if anything, he’ll be too nervous to check it for too long and return it before he can discover mistakes.

It’s looking like that’s the case as well, the boy’s drifty stare sweeping over the cards a little too quickly, and Harry is already raising him hand again to take the ID back and put it away.

But.

But, but, but, but.

But as the boy is getting ready to return the ID, the older woman goes up to him to inspect it with him, and Harry goes stiff in a matter of microseconds. She looks like she has experience with this. She could probably find flaws soon enough, this is different than in smoky clubs or small liquor stores. This place actually cares. This is _thorough_.

And soon enough, she does push her glasses farther up on her nose to get a closer look, she does bring it up near her face to be sure, she gets this insanely panic inducing wrinkle between her eyebrows, and Harry _knows_.

And everything is kind of shattering, then. Harry hears the sound of screaming crowds and fire alarms and broken glass in his head as the woman takes the ID aside to investigate it further, eyebrows furrowed skeptically together. She looks back at the pair by the desk, and back to the legitimation, to Harry and Louis, and back to the legitimation. Then she asks for a phone. Harry already knows what kind of phone call she’ll be making.

And to his right, is Louis, and his face is pale and his eyes are blown wide as he realizes that yeah, they’re definitely going to get caught if they keep standing there.

So Harry does the only thing that comes to mind. It’s reckless, and stupid, and filled with risks, but it’s the only thing he can do because oh my god, they’re fucked anyway.

He grips a hold of Louis’ hand with one of his own, snatches the medicine off the counter with the other, and then he busts for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this 2 month pace really shouldn't become a thing. i'm not gonna make it a thing. i'm Not Gonna Make It A Thing.  
> anyways.
> 
> i sincerely apologize for the wait, and also for exposing myself and my giant crush on danielle campbell so shamelessly through my writing (i'm gay, let me live), and i also hope you enjoyed this glimpse of harry's mind. i don't personally like this chapter that much as..,, like nothing happens and everything feels rushed and slow at the same time.. but it was Necessary and honestly ????? i Finished it. i Did That. so that's always something. also i hope reading through endless paragraphs of harry's philosophical thoughts was somewhat entertaining.
> 
> i'll be traveling a lot this summer, especially in july, but i'll try to write as much as possible anyways !!! 
> 
> as always thank you sososo much forbyour patience and i lov u and hope you all are having wonderful days xxxx
> 
> oh aND friendly reminder that you can always come and say hi on tumblr @tequiladimples (pl e a se,,) and i also saw someone in the comments mentioning instagram !! which i do have !! it's @emiilia_idk hit me up i will lvoe u unconditionally (as if i don't already)


	18. chapter 16; earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Louis’ breath is caught in his throat and the brisk London air whooshes in his ear as he’s aimlessly dragged behind Harry’s tall and sprinting figure. The woman’s shrieks are still ringing in his ears even though they must be too far away to hear her by now.

That doesn’t stop Harry from running, though.

“What the—“ Louis tries breathily before coughing one and two and three times. “What the _fuck_ , Harry?”

Louis is yelling, and Harry is clearly not giving a single solitary fuck about it. Not even looking back to make sure Louis isn’t dying, he keeps going until he’s rounded at least eight corners and they’re on a slightly less crowded street.

Then he finally stops, lets go of Louis’ hand, and leans against the brick wall he evidently finds good enough to hide behind.

“We got… the medicine,” he says slowly, raising his left fist which is still tightly gripping the prescription. “We got the medicine.”

“Oh no,” Louis opposes. “We _stole_ the medicine.”

Harry throws his head back and lets out a short laugh. It’s a tiny bit strained and a bigger bit out of place, but he’s smiling and Louis’ mind suggests blooming gardens and woolen blankets.

“We did,” he agrees. “We stole the medicine.”

He stops laughing, whipping his head around to lock his stare with Louis’.

“And now we have to get out of here before they put up the wanted posters.”

“Would they actually do that?” Louis asks, wide-eyed and slightly horrified and the pair once again start moving, however this time much slower and less panicked.

Harry snorts in amusement. “No.”

“Oh.”

“But the store will no doubt file a report which is the modern day equivalent, so…”

“Got it. We have to leave.”

“We do. Like, _leave_ leave.”

“We have to leave so hard.”

“We’re going to leave so violently no one will even know what happened.”

Louis bites down around a smile and looks to the ground. He lets out a wistful sigh.

“I’m going to miss Earth, though,” he says. “It’s been fun. Quite amazing, actually.”

Harry shrugs, bumping Louis’ side slightly and the playful—not to mention comfortable—gesture is unfamiliar for the two of them, but it doesn’t feel entirely wrong.

“We’ll sneak back sometime once the portals are fixed,” he promises, a shadow of mischief shaping his features. “It’d be a crime not to; you haven’t even gone to an amusement park yet.”

It’s casual, effortless, the way he says that, like he doesn’t think much of it.

Louis thinks more of it, evidently. The fact that there’s a “we” for Harry, the fact that that “we” is stretching beyond the end of this adventure, that’s…

Warm. Fuzzy. Louis wants to giggle or jump around to get rid of the giddiness. He wants to touch Harry’s skin, a little. He needs to do something to handle the deep, rich warmth spreading like blossoming flowers and spring streams in his chest all the way out to his fingertips.

The fact that this feeling is irrational is something Louis sets aside to ponder at another time. Right now he’s just content knowing that maybe he’s allowed to enjoy Harry’s company sometimes. That maybe that’s not so bad.

He can live with that.

~

They meet up with Zayn, Liam and Niall in this lovely park, and Louis feels a little more like home. There’s just always a sense of comfort as soon as there are trees and flowers and green grass around. It’s peaceful and pure, and it’s uninterrupted and unfazed by everything happening in its surroundings. Louis loves nature a lot. He’s missed it.

The three boys also look wonderfully tranquil; Zayn is lying with his head in Liam’s lap and Niall is looking extremely happy about this fact. Louis feels him.

“So the good news is,” Harry starts slowly, “we got the medicine.”

Niall high fives him and Liam lights up like stars, obviously thrilled by the possibility to finally help his friend.

The only one still keeping calm, only a slight smirk playing on his lips, is Zayn, and he asks calmly:

“And the bad news?”

Well, then. Louis had hoped they’d get a few more minutes of celebration, but he supposes this will do, too.

“The bad news is we stole it,” Harry finishes. “And the store staff is probably filing a report at this very minute.”

As expected, that dampens the mood immediately, Liam’s face going from delighted to mildly horrified, and Niall groaning out an “oh for _fucks_ sake”.

“Why does absolutely _everything_ become a big deal when the two of you are involved?” he continues exasperatedly. “Oh my _God_.”

“Harry is his mom’s son,” Louis deadpans, but he immediately throws a glance at Harry to make sure the spirit doesn’t take offense (which. Irrational. Not like Louis should care).

He doesn’t really seem to as the only response it gets is a snort and a faint eye roll.

“Thank you, Harry, for being so dedicated to our case and doing what needed to be done,” Harry suggests. “Thank you for not being completely blinded by morals like myself, Harry.”

 Louis mimics Harry’s snort, waving his hand glibly in front of Harry’s face. “Whatever.”

“Anyway…” Harry keeps going, determined not to pay more attention to Louis right now (rude). His tone is softly merging into something more apologetic and quiet and his eyes darts over to Zayn and Liam one time too many. “I’m—really sorry, but it looks like we’re going to have to leave. Now. Like, today. We didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Louis’ heart breaks when he sees the golden light in Liam’s eyes fade the very second the word _leave_ rolls off of Harry’s tongue, dejected stare slowly traveling to meet Zayn’s.

It’s completely quiet between the five of them for a horrible minute, all of them letting this sink in. Louis closes his eyes and listens to the wind tugging at the grass, at defiant branches. He listens to people’s feet pressuring the ground and birds chirping.

“Right,” Niall speaks at last. “Guess we can’t afford wasting any time, huh?”

They guess not.

It’s a dull and dejected travel back to Zayn’s apartment to pack their newly purchased things. Zayn and Liam walk very closely together all the time, sides lined up on the subway and Louis thinks it’s hard to look at as it is, but when he looks over to Harry, it gets even worse. The spirit is also watching the pair attentively, but with a painfully present frown and horribly slouching figure, and Louis understands that this is hard for him, too. Maybe he feels guilty. Maybe he’s losing hope.

He can’t. And Louis doesn’t know why his conscience thought it to be a good idea, but he moves his hand to place it over Harry’s, intertwining their fingers to convey some sort of comfort.

Like most times when faced with physical contact, Harry flinches and freezes at first, before looking down at Louis’ hand on his own, and he lets out a long breath. They don’t make eye contact even once.

(Louis wishes he’d stop flinching.)

 Niall is the only one who actually speaks lowly now and then, as someone has to fill Louis and Liam in on the portal system on Earth and how to go about it.

On Earth, they have to sneak around with their world traveling. They can’t very well put them in public places like you can in the Gods’ kingdoms. So instead, they have special portal buildings that the Gods made receptive to magic a long time ago. There are several portals in there for all worlds that may need one—only available to and seen by people who hold magic, like all portals are, even in in Grimm Louis notes—planted along the countryside roads and fields, disguised as abandoned, dilapidated houses and barns. It’s quite a concept, Louis thinks. He likes the mysteriousness.

They manage to get back to Zayn’s apartment, a quiet bunch but still, a little more productive and maybe a little more ready to face their fate. While taking off his jacket, Louis sees Zayn’s book on mythology resting lonelily on a stool in the hallway, and he has an idea. A really good one, he reckons. If Zayn will agree to it.

When Niall, Harry and Liam walk into the living room and bedroom to collect their clothes, Louis instead sneaks into the kitchen where Zayn is standing by the counter.

“Louis!” he exclaims when he notices the pigeon toed fairy in the doorway. “Tea?”

“Oh,” Louis blinks, “thank you, but you don’t have to.”

“Was going to make some for myself anyway.”

“Oh, well. Okay, sure. Thanks again.”

Zayn nods and smiles to himself, filling the water boiler up and turning it on. Louis would take Zayn for a coffee person, most humans he knows are. He’s always loved tea himself, though, so it’s a pleasant surprise.

But, he digresses. He’s on a mission.

“Hey, Zayn,” he starts timidly. “Do you think we could… Borrow your book? Your mythology book, I mean. It might come in handy along the trip. Just see how much it already helped us.”

“Well.” The water boiler goes off with a small tick, and Zayn starts pouring water into two teacups. ”Am I going to get it back?”

“Well,” Louis mimics his tone. “Are you planning to see Liam again?”

It’s not completely certain, but Louis is pretty sure there’s a blush on Zayn’s cheeks. “I’d hope so.”

Louis flashes him a grin. “You’ll get it back.”

Zayn can’t stop himself from mirroring the bright smile and looks down for a moment, collecting thoughts or maybe just savoring this experience altogether. Louis can’t imagine how much this whole thing must mean to Zayn, the confirmation of the world system, meeting them all, meeting Liam.

They’re a few seconds away from entering the slightly awkward silence state when Zayn’s head snaps up again, his eyes big and the first thought that crosses Louis mind is god, it’s a beautiful thing of fate that Zayn and Liam are the two most doe eyed people he knows. They fit each other perfectly.

“You know what?” he says. “I should like. Pack you a bag or something. Of stuff that might come in handy, yeah? It sounds like you have quite the trip ahead of you, what with saving the universes and all.”

Louis’ back automatically straightens at the words ‘saving the universes’, even though he doesn’t know how true the statement is. He’d like it to be, he’s always liked it to be. He enjoys being associated with the phrase. Sue him.

“Just stuff, you know, some clothes, my book, food, maybe,” Zayn rambles on when he doesn’t get an immediate response from the fairy. “Alcohol is definitely going to come in handy, trust me. I’ll even pack some Nutella. First aid kit, maybe. Do creatures like you need that? Well, you can never be too sure so I suggest that too, and—“

“Zayn,” Louis interrupts. He shoots him a kind smile. “That’s very nice of you. Thanks.”

Zayn breathes out and smiles back. He dips a teabag into Louis’ cup and hands it to him. As a bypassing thought, he asks if Louis wants any sugar or milk, and Louis politely declines. He likes his tea just as it is, thanks. As one should.

(He bet Harry takes his tea with milk. No, wait, he bets Harry is a _coffee_ person. He bets Harry takes his coffee black. That’s even worse than taking tea with milk.

Not that he’s sure why Harry is relevant right now in any way.)

As Louis drinks his tea, now happy to have an excuse to just sit down and take it easy after such a hectic few days, he aims to make small conversation with Zayn as the boy starts looking through his pantry for edible things.

“So. What’s your favorite fairytale?” is what he comes up with.

Zayn doesn’t stop looking, but Louis can hear the faint smile in his voice.

“Um, I think Red Riding Hood was a favorite when I was younger. Little Briar Rose… Rumpelstiltskin… I loved them all, really.”

“Rumpelstiltskin?” Louis wrinkles his nose. “Why Rumpelstiltskin?”

Zayn shrugs, scratching his neck. “I don’t know, I just like the happy ending. Like, especially there. When it’s about a mother and her child, that whole ordeal. I love that concept, probably because I never— “ he stops himself and the pause tears at Louis heart, the human boy just settling for a headshake. “I don’t know. I just like that she figured out the name. That she got to keep the baby.”

“Got to keep the— “ Louis frowns. If there’s anything he does know a thing or two about, it’s his Grimm stories. He grew up around them, around the people they revolved around, he’s gotten all the inside information and has gotten to see things play out and gossip about the newest adventure or wedding with his friends in the Forest. And he’s pretty sure that’s not how the story ends. “Hm. That’s how the story goes?”

“Spill.”

Louis lets a quick smile slip at how quick Zayn notices something’s up.

“Nothing, it’s just. I think they sugarcoated it a little for you, love.”

“I’m all ears.”

Louis shakes his head, sucking his lower lip in between his teeth.

“I don’t want to ruin the happy ending for you. If that’s what you like about it.”

“I can take it,” Zayn insists. “If you give away part A you’ve got to say part B.”

“Well. It’s not like— _bad_ , bad. No one dies or anything,” Louis shrugs. “It’s just… She didn’t figure out his name. He came back, and she didn’t figure out his name but she loved her baby so much that she couldn’t just give it away and so she just like, _took off_. Bolt like speed, through the forest. Didn’t care one bit about the lilies my people had planted along the way, squished them well, she did. And then, since Rumpelstiltskin had made her a magical being what with her ability to make gold out of straws, she could see the portals. And she reached one and in the end she just—a panicked action, quite obviously, she threw herself at the portal, aiming to disappear into it with her child, but Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her by the foot, and she fell, and her baby just _flew, whoosh—_ into the portal on its own. And t _hat’s_ when Rumpelstiltskin got so furious that he threw a proper tantrum, revealed his own name, and proceeded to rip himself in two. Which, don’t tell anyone I said this, but the guy was like weeds I’m told, annoying and all over the place. He hated everyone and no one was very fond of him either. Not exactly the greatest loss the Forest has ever suffered.” Louis ends his story when he realizes he’s starting to ramble, going for a pensive expression and a tilt of his head, instead. “No one knows what happened to the baby, but I do know they’re still waiting for it, hoping for its return.”

Zayn contemplates this. Long and hard, but he doesn’t look like all his childhood dreams have been shattered, so Louis counts it as a win.

“Why didn’t she go with her child?” the human asks, at last. “If she loved them so much, why didn’t she?”

“Oh, she wasn’t allowed,” Louis sighs. “By then they had gathered quite the crowd, and a couple of other nature creatures held her back and led her away. They moved the portal after that. But she would’ve, you know? She would’ve left her entire life behind for her child. And I think that’s pretty admirable.”

He doesn’t receive an answer this time, Zayn all of a sudden very busy with scanning through his pantry again. With a shrug to himself Louis decides that if Zayn wants to let the topic go, then that’s fine, and he goes back to folding his clothes.

But Zayn does speak again, if a couple of minutes later, but regardless, and the words are tentative but pronounced around a small smile.

“I think I like that story better, in a way,” he says. “Is that like, cruel?”

No, Louis supposes not. Not in Zayn’s case, who’s been without a real family his entire life and maybe would’ve found some kind of comfort in this ending of the story when he was younger, entertained the idea that maybe he himself is a lost prince who belongs to a fairytale village far away from here.

(Louis isn’t supposed to know all of this though, so he doesn’t mention it.)

“No,” Louis assures him softly. “Sometimes not even fairytales have fairytale endings. That’s just how things are.”

They don’t get to continue the conversation because then the other three boys come stumbling in, apparently all ready to go. Harry has a backpack on, holding the straps determinedly, and he looks like such a _child_ Louis can’t help but to start giggling.

Harry’s eyes narrow immediately, and the contrast between his hostile face and his toddler like posture has Louis snorting into his palm.

“Let me in on the joke?” he inquires, raising his eyebrows.

Louis just zips his own backpack and pats Harry’s shoulder in the doorway on his way out.

“You look like a child on his first day of school with that backpack,” he titters. “Very cute.”

He can hear the sound of Harry’s shoes against the floor when he turns around, horribly offended.

“ _You’re_ a fucking child,” he sputters, throwing Louis into another fit of giggles.

“Don’t worry, you’ll make plenty of friends today love,” he quips back.

“You’ve never been less amusing.”

“Hold tight to that backpack, son!”

 

~

 

 Zayn doesn’t have a driver’s license—not that Louis would know what exactly that entails—so they have to rely on Harry’s own way of transport to get there. Niall is fine on his own, flying so fast no human eye could catch a glimpse of him once he starts going, but the remaining three can’t do that.

Or, well, Louis supposes he could’ve, if he still had his wings. Could probably outfly Niall. He’s not bitter or anything.

Harry is at first extremely reluctant to the idea of taking anyone but Louis with him into his spirit state, not at all sure he could do it. However after a good fifteen minutes of Harry and Louis bickering, and then arguing, and then more or less screaming back and forth, Harry finally gives in with an unsatisfied huff and a “don’t blame me if shit goes wrong”. Louis tells him he absolutely will blame Harry, so he better not let shit go wrong. He also nudges Harry’s arm with his shoulder and tells him that Harry got this.

(He knows Harry can do it. He wouldn’t go through the trouble if he didn’t have that faith in Harry. Maybe Harry would’ve agreed a lot sooner if Louis had said that instead, but there’s nothing they can do about it now. Regardless, Louis got his way.

Besides, he’s right because Harry does absolutely fine.)

So here they are now, standing inside an old barn looking practically ready to fall over from a gust of wind. There are about six portals in there, shining brightly and blue and welcomingly. They look safe. Louis knows they’re not, but he lets them fool him, just a little.

When I go through that portal, I’ll have my wings back, he thinks. He sticks to that thought.

“So…” Liam starts. Reluctantly. Unwillingly. Hesitantly. Dejectedly. Louis is going to tear up. “I guess this is where we’re leaving, yeah?”

The three other soon-to-be-gone boys nod in unison, but Liam is only looking at Zayn. He takes his bottom lip between this teeth and it looks like he’s making an effort to not hang his head.

“Or…” Zayn starts, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. He doesn’t at all look devastated, as one would expect him to. Which, good for him, Louis figures. A quite abrupt change, but. Who is Louis to judge.

But then Zayn keeps talking and his frown makes a whole lot of sense.

“ _Or_ I could maybe… Walk right into one of the portals standing right there? With you? The portals I’m currently seeing?”

Four heads whip around to penetrate Zayn with disbelieving stares.

“Mate,” Niall starts. “I love you, I really do, but this isn’t the time to joke around.”

“I’m not, though,” Zayn insists. “I can see the portals, they’re blue, they’re shiny, they’re right there.”

“You’re a human.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an _Earth human_.”

“Presumably.”

Zayn is clearly quite uncomfortable being pierced by the others’ eyes like this, and he scratches his neck and avoids looking up from his shoes.

“You shouldn’t be able to walk through the portal! You shouldn’t even be able to see it in the first place! You don’t hold _magic_!” Niall is still the one speaking—borderline yelling at this point, really— the others too perplexed to even know what to butt in with if they’d want to.

“ _I quite got that, thank you_.”

Zayn sighs and shakes his head before finally meeting the other boys’ eyes with newfound determination.

“Now, are you going to let me come along or not?”

“It’s—we’re not—“ Niall massages his temples. Louis understands his stress. “It’s not guaranteed that it’s going to work. You’re a human.”

“It’s worth a _try_. I want to come with you.”

“That’s not—fuck.” The cupid sighs loudly and heavily before continuing, visibly apologetic when he starts again. “Believe me, if we could take you with us, we would. But we can’t _risk_ it. The punishment we’d face when—not if, but _when_ —we get caught is too harsh. Not just for us, but for you as well.”

“Oh.” Zayn falters, shoulders slacking with disappointment.

Louis’ attention falls on Liam, though, who’s biting his thumbnail and staring profusely at his feet. It’s kind of heartbreaking, really. Liam doesn’t deserve this. Zayn doesn’t either. Louis kind of wants to scream because all he wants is for them to be happy together. They’re quite the epitome of what he’s always pictured love to be like, what he’s always _experienced_ love to be like, and it’s amazing. They’re like, well. Like a fairytale.

Except now, they’re not. Even though Louis has no doubt they’ll meet again, definitely, they’ll find each other, it still stands that they have no idea _when_ that will happen. It could be days. It could be _years_.

He wants to cry a little for them.

Next to him, Harry’s looking at him, Louis knows this because he can feel the spirit’s eyes bore into his temple. Louis doesn’t look back, but rather straight forward with a determined frown on his face, trying his very best to not let his lower lip wobble. He sniffs pathetically.

“Oh, _fuck_ it.”

Everyone flinches out of the quiet state Harry just put an end to, puzzled stares falling on the curly boy.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Just bring him already. He’s right, it’s worth a try.”

Louis wants to side with Harry on this, he wants to so, so badly. But even though it hurts to admit, no matter how much he hates it, Niall has a very valid point.

“Harry,” he says lowly. “The consequences are too serious.”

“Not if I take the whole blame.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Please,” Harry snorts. “What was it you were afraid of again? Being sent to the Underworld? Being _hurt_?”

Their silence confirms it, and Harry nods knowingly.

“Been there, done that,” he says lightly. “Whatever they throw my way, I’ve probably been through worse.”

“I mean,” Niall agrees tentatively. “If you’re sure you want to do that.”

“I am.” There are no signs of hesitation on Harry’s face when he answers, and sunshine is seeping into Louis’ heart suddenly, lighting up his entire chest.

Niall is holding back a smile as well. Louis isn’t sure if it’s because of Zayn and Liam or if it’s because of Louis and Harry, judging by the fact that the cupid’s smirky stare seems to be traveling more between the latter pair. It’s fine for this time, Louis thinks. He can lecture Niall later, when he doesn’t feel like the sun is shining out through his fingertips from looking at Harry.

The cupid at last breathes deeply and turns back to Zayn.

“Come on, then.”

Zayn lights up, features chiseled and grazed by starlight, and he walks in beside Liam to take his hand in a steady grip. No one says anything about how red Liam’s face turns. (Though Louis is going to remember it to bring up later maybe, if he ever feels like teasing a little.)

So they go, all five together, and there’s a strange sense of safety and wholeness as they enter the cerulean shimmering barrier. There’s no anxiety or hostility, but a sense of anticipating calmness and it’s nice, it’s pure, like this is how it should be, like they should be in this together.

Louis actually feels good about stepping into the portal, this time.

 

~

 

A cold stone floor gives them a rough welcome, and Louis yelps when his knees hit against the hard foundation with force.

They’re inside a building, that’s for sure. It’s big and pompous in a medieval kind of way, lit up by torches and lit candles on chandeliers, and it’s not as pretty as the Queen of Heart’s castle had been, but there’s a sense of mystic and baroque beauty over it. Louis likes it, he does. Not exactly his taste, but he can appreciate it. He feels like Harry would like this.

Zayn is a tiny step from hyperventilating, still cramped up on the floor with Liam lightly squeezing his shoulders. Comforting and encouraging words are falling out of the werewolf’s mouth in a rapid but soft pace, so much fond and concern in his eyes Louis feels like he’s intruding by watching them.

Harry groans beside him, murmuring about ‘no powers again, great, just fantastic, refreshing’ and it’s amusing, Louis wants to tease him about it, but he has a more urgent matter to deal with.

Louis’ wings, his beloved, beautiful wings are very much present again, steadily etched into his back, fluttering eagerly, and Louis feels whole again.

“So… Anyone wants to take a guess at where we are?” Harry mutters.

“Well.” Niall tilts his head in contemplation. “You don’t have your powers, so it’s not Greek territory. And… And I don’t have mine either, so it’s not Roman.” A hint of bitterness seeps into the last sentence, Niall obviously being unhappy about this fact. “And it’s not Wonderland. My guess would be somewhere on Norse territory.”

Louis’ eyes blows wide as a starstruck kind of realization dawns upon him. This isn’t the Forest, and as far as he knows, there are no castles like this one in Grimm. It’s not Hel either, because his wings would be able to feel that kind of overwhelming negative energy.

He knows exactly where they are, as a Norse creature he’s dreamed of this place all his life, and he lifts from the ground from the way his wings flutter in excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED THE CHAPTER !!!! I DID THAT !!!!
> 
> no ok i wanna profusely apologize for once again taking so long to update. i genuinely thought i would update at least once more during the summer but truth is i ended up being a lot busier than i though (it was a good busy tho :') i had a v v nice summer :')). and this is, wlel. a filler chapter. a necessary chapter, but not the most eventful and Riveting and it was just,, boring to write it at times. which is why i'm so PUMPED about having it done !!!!!!!
> 
> as always, thank you so so sososo much for waiting and reading and giving kudos and commenting (i read every single comment. they're the only thing keeping me warm in this chilly october weather) i love you so much ,, SO much ,
> 
> you can always come and talk to me on tumblr @tequiladimples i always have a whole lot of love to give so pleas ! xxx :')


	19. chapter 17; asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

”Asgard.”

The name rolls smoothly off Louis’ tongue, seeps through his teeth and falls out his mouth with a childlike kind of admiration. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought this would happen. He’s dreamed, fantasized, imagined this moment so many times, and the fact that he’s now here, in person, is unbelievable to him. He remembers playing around during his childhood in the forest, swinging around fallen branches like lethal swords and stealing hammers from the dwarves to imitate Thor’s Mjolnir, pretending the apples they hoarded during early September mornings were golden and holding eternal youth. Louis has grown up wanting to be a God, wanting to be _his_ Gods.

And now here he is, on Asgardian ground, and Louis thinks he just might faint from pure ecstasy.

“Boys,” he nearly squeals, looking around the room once again to truly savor the moment. “I don’t want to be overly dramatic but I’m pretty sure my entire life has led up to this moment.”

He turns around to face his companions with the widest smile on his face to see if any of them are matching his own ecstasy. Liam does, in fact, look quite awestruck, Zayn is visibly still recovering from being violently sent through space, Niall’s mostly looking at the aforementioned pair, and Harry is looking severely unimpressed.

“Great,” he mutters. “More pompous gods who despise my whole being. Was starting to get too comfortable without that.”

Louis is not going to let Harry shit all over his happiness. Not here.

“Not everything is about you,” he reminds the spirit assertively. “Quit whining.”

He starts looking around for the door, a big and evidently heavy one, made from thick and rough wood with big, iron handles.

“We can’t waste any time,” he urges. “Come on, let’s see where we are!”

He’s already on his way to the door and he can hear at least two pairs of feet following him, when he’s roughly taken aback by a terrified scream from behind him.

He stops immediately in his tracks and swiftly turns around to see what danger they are in this time.

Zayn is standing up, an absolutely horrified look in his eyes and limbs trembling as he looks to the werewolf next to him. It takes a moment for Louis to even realize what’s going on, but when he does, his blood freezes cold and his eyes blow so wide he’s scared they’re going to pop out.

Next to Zayn stands Liam, lapidified in a crunched stance with one hand reaching out towards the floor, and he’s completely made of gold.

He’s made of _gold_.

It takes a good couple of seconds before Louis is even physically capable of tearing his gaze away from his now lifeless friend to stare at Zayn.

Zayn has his hands tightly balled up into fists pressed to his chest, taking a few stumbling steps away from Liam’s golden figure.

“I don’t know what happened,” he utters, “he just took my hand to help me up and then he—what the fuck is going _on_?”

That’s a splendid fucking question. Louis doesn’t have an answer, just lets his stare wander rapidly between Zayn and Liam, Zayn, Liam, Zayn, Liam, as if doing it a certain amount of times will make him understand.

“Did I do that?” Zayn asks frantically. “Did I do this to him or was it just a _really_ cruel coincidence that he turned into a statue right when I touched him?”

It doesn’t sound like a coincidence, it really doesn’t. Hence everyone’s complete and utter horror and confusion. Zayn is, as far as they all know, an Earth human. An Earth human doesn’t possess powers like these.

“Did I—“ Zayn’s flat out whimpering at this point, “fuck, did I— _kill_ —?”

He can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence, and he shakes his head furiously. “ _No_. No I did _not_. We need to make this right, fuck, we’ve got to—“

And just like that he’s rushing right past the remaining three boys to the giant door and Louis can practically hear the whooshing sound from how fast he’s going, frantically pressing both his palms against the cold wood to push the door open.

The door turns into a block of shiny, rich gold. Zayn flinches away so hard Louis is scared the boy is going to break something.

“Oh my god,” Zayn whispers breathily. “Oh my god, oh my god, _oh my_ _god_ —“

He turns around and slides down against the door, fists clenched and knees supporting his forehead.

“Zayn.” Louis is the first one to speak, lowly and carefully. He crouches down to pat him on the shoulder, but just as he’s doing so he remembers the gold turning factor and though he’s pretty sure that it’s just Zayn’s hands that he should avoid—if Zayn’s whole body would be affected his clothes would logically turn golden as well—he’s rather safe than sorry.

So instead he just sinks down next to Zayn, trying his best to make his whole being radiate comfort.

“Zayn,” he tries again. “So I understand that this is—hard, for you, _god_ , I do. But we’re going to fix this, alright? Sif, Thor’s wife—not that you wouldn’t already know—has golden hands as well. And if she doesn’t know anything, which I doubt, we’ll go look for Idun because she has it too. It’ll be okay. I don’t know why or how you have these powers but you’re not alone. Zayn, look at me.”

Zayn obliges, staring into Louis determined eyes with his own exasperated ones.

“We will fix this,” Louis states slowly. “We _will fix this._ ”

It does take a couple of seconds for Zayn to process it seems, but when he does he nods slowly, increasing in fervor as he—fists still clenched—stands up again.

“Yeah,” he says, confidently. “We’ll fix this. Let’s go.”

“Maybe—“ Louis interjects when Zayn starts going for the gleaming, polished door handle. “Maybe not through that exact door, though.”

“What?” Zayn gives him an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the door?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just. Since it’s now a huge block of gold it’s most likely going to be too heavy to push open.”

“…Right. _Fuck_. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis assures, turning swiftly to Harry with an innocent expression.

“Harry. Darling,” he tries with the prettiest smile he can muster. “Light of my life. Yin to my yang. Pen to my paper, honey to my comb. The stars to my sky.”

“You disgust me,” Harry deadpans, but as he does so he walks right up to Louis and grabs his hand, fully aware of what Louis is asking of him.

“Um. No. Start with Zayn,” Louis protests with furrowed eyebrows, prying his hand away from Harry’s grip.

It doesn’t really matter, though, because Harry just takes his hand again determinedly.

“No. I’ll start with you. I need you on the other side of that door so you can’t distract me when I need to concentrate.”

As if on cue the fairy starts sputtering and protesting to loudly emphasize his offense, but Harry doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He asks Louis politely and kindly to concentrate on the issue at hand so that his mind won’t wander off during their air transport, which Louis doesn’t exactly oppose, and as soon as he’s dropped Louis off on the other side he vanishes again to get the remaining two of their friends. It goes smoothly and quickly, and Louis allows himself to feel just a ting of pride of how greatly Harry handles it, not an ounce of insecurity this time.

“Right,” Niall is the one to take the first initiative. “Let’s figure out what fancy god lives in this place, yeah?”

Louis’ limbs are tingling with excitement as the four boys walk down a set of stairs, made of heavy and uneven stone, and Louis is kind of happy that they bought shoes on Earth—surely his bare feet would’ve been both cold and sore from the ground of this castle. Not to mention Vans are extremely comfortable.

The stairs lead them all down to a gloomy hallway, shadow dancing across the walls from the flames that keeps it lit up. It’s giving the place quite a spooky vibe. Not that Louis is scared or anything.

“ _Who’s there_?”

A frantic and rough voice coming from the end of the corridor makes all the boys jump, Louis instinctively flying a couple of feet above the ground (fuck how he’d missed that).

No one says anything, they just stand completely still waiting for the stranger to make the next move, narrowing their eyes to try to see who’s approaching them. The person’s steps are hazy and kind of hesitant and his figure is hunched, but even then, it’s apparent that he’s both tall and hefty. Or well, he probably could be hefty, if he didn’t seem so tentative and drained just now.

The closer the man gets, the easier it becomes to make out a face, and Louis reacts when he sees how old it is. Cheeks are hanging, eyelids are droopy, his lips are chapped and creasy.

That’s the only reason Louis doesn’t recognize him right away, because god if he hasn’t seen this face before, except younger and more headstrong, the main character of so many stories and history books he’s read.

“Thor,” he breathes.

The lightning god doesn’t stop moving until they’re only a few steps apart, eyeing them with hostility and suspicion.

“Give me your names and three reasons why I shouldn’t throw all of you out immediately,” he grits out between his teeth.

Louis is too shaken up to answer, too taken aback by the presence of one of the most powerful and influential gods of his universe to make another sound.

Harry is the one to step in, stiff and clearly feeling uneasy by Louis’ side, but Louis is grateful he still takes the initiative.

“I’m Harry,” he introduces himself. “This is Louis, Niall, and Zayn. We all fell through a portal, we wish no harm, and we’re also… Kind of in need of a favor.”

Thor is quiet for the longest time, narrowed eyes traveling slowly between the four strangers, seemingly deciding if they’re worth his time or not.

“We also want to, um,” Harry continues in another attempt at convincing him. “Fix the portals. And we might have an idea on how to do that.”

Okay, so them having an idea on how to fix the portals might be a little farfetched, but it does seem to make a difference. Thor’s tired eyes widen a little, and he then starts moving towards a door on his right. He opens it and gestures for the group to enter, which they oblige to immediately.

A huge leather sofa stands in one corner, and Thor approaches it to sit down, the others in a nice line behind him. Louis takes a seat in-between Niall and Harry, breathing deeply as he finally meets the god’s stare.

“Very well,” Thor finally speaks, voice strained and old. “The first thing I would like you all to be very clear on when it comes to _favors_ , is that we never do them if you have nothing to provide us with back.”

“That’s—that’s not how favors work,” Zayn mutters, most likely not for Thor to hear, but the God instantly snaps his head up to look the raven haired boy straight in the eye, a daring darkness in them.

“Is something about our methods bothering you, human?” he asks, and Louis thinks he can feel an underlying threat.

So can Zayn. He gulps.

“No. Not at all.” He looks down on his hands, shoulders tense up by his ears.

Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t seem frightened by this at all, and Louis looks on with terror how the spirit opens his mouth, a cocky eyebrow lifted, and no, he’s not letting Harry Styles get into a twist with a lightning god. That’s not happening.

“We don’t have a lot to offer,” Louis therefore cuts in before Harry has the chance, trying to lead the conversation back on the right track.

Thor lets the Zayn situation go quickly, going back to being strict and factual.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I already have it picked out for you, so this is what’s going to happen: I tell you what we need from you, and then you are free to decide whether you think it’s an arguable exchange.”

The boys just nod, and Louis already knows they’re going to agree to whatever it is that Thor wants. If it means getting Liam back, then they’ll do it.

“We need our apples,” Thor states simply. “Idun was on a trip to Olympus when the portals malfunctioned and she didn’t make it back in time, and now we don’t know what to do. A couple of us did try, of course, to take the apples by ourselves while we still had the strength and stamina, but to no avail, and we age too quickly. There was this rhyme, this clue we couldn’t solve by the tree that prevented us from picking them…”

He looks up into the air, grasping inside his head for information.

“My memory fails me. My condolences. If I’d only had those apples now, it would be healthy as ever, but just like my joints… They also fall prey for time.”

“How long will it take?” Louis asks, hoping to any and every god within a ten-mile radius that it won’t take _too_ long.

“Surely not more than a couple of days, back and forth,” Thor promises eagerly (well. As eagerly as he can without having heart palpitations, Louis assumes). “And you will of course be well equipped for your journey! I have everything you may need—food, shelter, weapons, whatever you want.”

Harry can’t seem to stop a faint groan from escaping to express his exhaustion.

“This is stupid,” he exclaims. “This isn’t why we came! We came here because we have news about the portals, not to do some pompous God’s work—”

“If getting these literally fatally important gods their apples so that they don’t die and creates chaos in all of our universes is what we need to do to get Liam back, I don’t see why we can’t tell them about the portals _and_ help them,” Louis snaps and the stare he gives Harry should have the spirit in death cramps on the floor. “Right, Harry?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Right.”

Louis decides that will do, and he turns back to Thor.

“We think we have a clue on what’s wrong with the portals, and well. Funny that, that you’re the god of lightning, because that’s what the problem is. We think someone has messed with the lighting energy in the Powerhouses. Do you know anything about that? Could it be true?”

Thor raises his eyebrows.

“Yes,” he says, “that’s what we’ve been suspecting, too. But I had nothing to do with it, if that’s what you’re implying. I couldn’t just take back all my electricity from _all_ the portals at once. That is only something a Leader could do. Zeus. Or Jupiter.”

“You think Zeus or Jupiter has done this?” Louis knits his eyebrows. “But _why_?”

“I have no idea what their motives could be. It’s just the only thing we can think of that makes sense.”

It is, Louis figures—but he also couldn’t for his life imagine why a Leader would do something like this. That would have to mean one of them has treacherous characteristics of the worst sort, bad intentions like no other. How would that just suddenly happen out of nowhere? Did they not all drink from Mimir’s Well all those centuries ago? It shouldn’t be possible for them to be traitors like this.

And it still doesn’t make sense because there isn’t a motive. With Eris, there doesn’t have to be one. She creates chaos for the hell of it, because it’s simply what she does. But if only a Leader could fuck with the portals like this, then… How does anything make sense anymore?

Louis’ head hurts by now, so he decides to not look further into it yet. It can wait.

So instead, he looks to Zayn, who’s been standing quietly next to him, fists still convulsively clenched, and then back to Thor.

“So,” he says. “Our favor has to do with your wife. Sif. We have a friend who’s—well, dead if she can’t find a way to undo it. It has to do with her golden hands.”

Thor blinks. “Of course. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

Louis lets out a breath of relief and turns to Zayn again to give him a reassuring smile. Zayn gives him a slight upturn of his mouth back, still looking insecure, but Louis sees it as an improvement.

 

~

 

Sif is tired, and old, and beautiful. Her skin is dry and littered with soft creases by her eyes and forehead and her hands are veiny and pale. The only thing that doesn’t quite fit is the long, golden hair falling graciously down her shoulders and onto her pillow where she’s lying in her bed, surrounded by pastel silk covers and soft pillows. When the boys step into her room, fidgety and quietly, she meets their gazes with kind eyes.

“Visitors,” she muses. “What a pleasant surprise. Haven’t had that for a while now.”

Niall steps forward from behind Harry, taking the lead.

“Sif!” he greets cheerily. “Looking beautiful as always.”

Sif lights up immediately at the sight of the cupid.

“Niall,” she greets back. “It’s so lovely to see you!”

“Wait…” Louis interrupts, brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of their light chatter. “You know each other?”

“Yeah! Sif is the goddess of marriage—among other things. Naturally, we’ve met a couple of times.” Niall gives his apparent coworker a bright smile, which Sif reciprocates.

“It’s been too long since last time,” she says warmly.

Her gaze then leaves him for a moment, flying over the other three boys rapidly. She seems to notice that there is one missing, as she frowns in confusion and looks back to Niall, question obvious in her eyes. It hits Louis that she must also know about Liam and Zayn.

“He’s here, too,” Niall promises instantly. “But, uh. That’s where kind of need your help. Zayn?”

Zayn looks up from the floor for the first time when his name is called, and he looks between the goddess and the cupid carefully.

“Right. Uh. Hi. I’m. It’s lovely to meet you. Your—your highness? Is—is that—“

Sif gives him a gentle smile. “Just Sif is alright, my love.”

Zayn nods and flashes her a nervous grin back, a little forced, a little endearing.

“Sif. I, uh—“ he takes a deep breath, and then rushes through the following sentence like he’s ripping off a band aid. “I can apparently turn things into gold with my bare hands and I turned my friend—Liam—into a statue by accident when he just wanted to help me and I was wondering if you please know a way to fix that?”

Uncertain silence. Sif narrows her eyes, puzzled, and nods slowly.

“But you’re a—human, aren’t you? You’re from Earth?”

“Yes. Can you turn him back?”

Silence again. They’re becoming slightly more unbearable every time they occur, Louis thinks and clenches his jaw.

“Yes, I can.”

Every single boy in the room lets out a collective sigh of endless relief. _It’s going to be okay_.

“However,” Sif continues warily. “Not in this state. I’m too weak, too old.”

“We’re getting the apples,” Zayn assures her quickly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Well, seems like that is all that Louis needed for Zayn to go from reluctant to ecstatic about running that errand. At least one of the boys now wholeheartedly has his back, Louis thinks.

Sif gives him a soft smile.

“You have kindness in your hearts. Therefore I’m also more than happy to help you control your golden hands. When I’m stronger. But for now… I want you to touch something in this room,” Sif tells him. “The nightstand, perhaps.”

“…Okay.”

Zayn swallow, unclenching his right hand for the first time since he’d turned Liam, slowly and carefully reaching it out to graze the polished marble nightstand with his fingertips. When nothing happens, he presses his whole hand down.

Nothing happens this time either. Zayn’s eyes widen frantically in confusion.

“I—I swear I did it before! I don’t know why I can’t all of a sudden I swear—“

“No, it’s okay. I believe you,” Sif assures him. “This is good. This means it’s not a curse. You can control it.”

“Sounds good,” Zayn says reluctantly. “Just how do I do that?”

Sif tilts her head in contemplation.

“Have you turned anything else into gold while you’ve been here?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “I was going to get Liam help, and when I pushed the door open it… Kind of backfired.”

“Right. So the first two times you turned something into gold was when you touched Liam, and when you attempted to get Liam help, correct?”

“Yeah,” Zayn wrinkles his forehead, “I guess.”

“Most powers like yours and mine are ruled by something, may it be moods or weather or something else. It always has a center. It sounds to me like your center would be strong emotion. Love, most probably.”

Louis can’t help but to gasp quietly, being as dramatic as he is. That’s almost… Kind of romantic.

Zayn doesn’t agree.

“ _Love_?” he immediately sputters, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’ve only known Liam for a few days!”

“And that makes it impossible to care for him?”

”No, not—not care for him, of course I _care_ for him, it’s just. Isn’t it a little early to throw that word around just yet?” Zayn lets out a nervous laugh and bites his lip. His eyes are constantly skipping from one point to another.

“If you’re confident enough that it’ll happen in the future to say ‘yet’ right now, I don’t see why we cannot just take a shortcut.”

Zayn opens his mouth but no words leave it, at loss for words at that statement.

“As I was saying,” Sif continues with a small smile, “that is most probably what controls your powers. Which means that in the beginning, it’s going to be hard to control, it always is. So to bring it out you’d have to think about something, or someone that you love deeply. A happy memory, maybe. Or a sad one, but distress is usually harder to control so I don’t recommend it. It will feel more and more natural as you go along and practice, and after a while you won’t have to give it any thought at all.”

“Sounds like a weird version of a patronus,” Zayn mutters.

He’s met by four pairs of blank stares. Zayn frowns.

“In Harry Potter? You know? It’s like a defensive spell. Where you need to think of your happiest memory and stuff. To. To cast it—no? None of you? Harry? Niall?”

“Sorry, man,” Niall says with a shrug.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Zayn shakes his head. “If I’d known that I’m dealing with a group this culturally uneducated I would’ve brought the series with me.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sif says pointedly. “I also hope you understand what your golden hands entail, about yourself and your background. The fact that you possess a magical power like this one, and that it works here, means that you most likely originate from Grimm. Not Earth.”

Zayn’s eyes are blown so wide they could probably pop out if he overdid it a little more, and he starts looking around, breathing out that he needs to sit down. He at last sinks down in a chair at the foot of Sif’s bed, staring blankly in front of him. A small smile is starting to overtake his features as the shock slowly but surely seeps away, and Louis is suddenly warm inside. He thinks back to the conversation they’d had in Zayn’s kitchen, thinks back on how this is probably all Zayn’s ever dreamed of, and he can’t help but smile along with his friend.

“Wait so this is… Oh _shit_!” Niall wheezes out of nowhere, tugging on the hem of Louis’ sleeve. “ _This is why Liam and Zayn were paired up_ ,” he continues, lowly so Zayn won’t hear, but the intensity in his voice is clear. “Despite living in two different universes. Oh my god. Because Zayn is supposed to live in Grim, too.”

Niall evidently needs to sit down, too. Louis pats him on the shoulder for some emotional support.

It is quite a concept, though, Louis must admit. A greater love story than he’s ever known. It’s beautiful, he thinks, that love is that strong, that even though they are from different parts of the universe—and still somehow not—there is no one more perfect for Liam than Zayn, and no one more perfect for Zayn than Liam. Even though they’ve been so separated they might as well never meet, they’re still meant for each other.

Louis wants that someday.

 

~

 

Thor didn’t lie when he said they’d offer both food and shelter.

After the biggest and best meal Louis has had in, well, probably his life, they all decide that it’s most definitely time for bed. In the morning they’re throwing themselves into yet another potential adventure and while a part of Louis still stubbornly yells that they must all have a death wish, he’s still come to terms with the fact that he’s out there doing things he’s only dreamed of before in his life. He’s out there seeing the worlds and fighting evil. You may even call him a hero.

“So, Zayn and I will take this room,” Niall says determinedly when they stand in the hallways in front of two doors that supposedly lead them to the two rooms they’ve been promised. “And you two take the other.”

Surprise.

Louis doesn’t really have anything against it at this point, Niall always finding ways to pair Harry and Louis up for some reason, but he does find the pattern quite peculiar.

“Why is it that every time we’re splitting up, Harry and I always end up together?” he asks Niall. “It’s not like we can’t stand each other anymore. You don’t have to force us.”

“Aw, doesn’t he?” Harry says gleefully behind him. “ _Louis_ , I’m all teared up.”

“Never mind,” Louis backtracks.

Niall gives them a light shrug.

“It’s just kind of happened that way so far. And now I figured you might want some, ah. One-on-one time. Also, Zayn is my favorite. He can make gold with his bare hands.”

 _Ah_. Louis, like struck by lightning, remembers that one awful incident in that one bathroom stall where Niall flung the door open on him and Harry post orgasm. He guesses it makes sense for a cupid to urge that sort of activity on.

Doesn’t stop him from going red to his ears, and it doesn’t stop Harry from having a sudden coughing fit.

Niall just grins. “Sleep tight, boys.”

 

~

 

The thing is, there’s only one bed. A rather big one, at that.

Quite huge, really. Could probably fit at least seven people. And the bed sheets are remarkably soft. The pillows are plush. So it’s not like Louis can complain. That’d just be rude, if he’s quite honest. Ungrateful. Besides, with this kind of size, Harry could easily share bed space without their skins having to graze even once.

This is going to be fine.

Louis kicks off his shoes and throws himself onto it, sinking into the mattress and the feathery duvet with a euphoric sigh. He stretches out his arms and legs, taking up as much space as he possibly can.

Which isn’t a lot because not only is the bed enormous, but Louis is also tiny. So.

“So this is quite a nice bed,” Harry states as he follows Louis’ example and lays down beside him, inching closer and closer until their sides are almost lined up. His body radiates warmth and Louis gulps, suddenly finding the air in there a little stuffed.

“Should we take advantage of it?”

Harry’s breath is tickling the skin on Louis’ neck, and the fairy’s first instinct is yes, they should, absolutely, undoubtedly.

But as he feels Harry’s soft fingertips burn traces onto his arms, he’s also overwhelmed by something completely different, and that’s fear.

Because there it is again, that fluttering feeling that bubbles up from the very pit of his stomach to the back of his throat as soon as Harry is within touching distance of him, and only Harry. It’s not just that he wants _someone_ close to him, he wants _Harry_ close to him, Louis wants Harry’s firm but gentle hands and Harry’s plush lips and Harry’s eyes on him, so green and deep they could be their own forest. (Maybe that’s why his eyes are starting to feel more and more like home to Louis.)

And that terrifies him.

“…No,” he just breathes instead. Shakes his head for emphasis. Sits up to distance himself.

Harry instantly removes his hand from Louis’ skin, and leans away.

“Oh. Okay. Of course. That’s fine too. Sorry.”

He’s sincere, and Louis just nods as an answer, taking a few deep breaths. He doesn’t quite know what to do now, how to start up a conversation. Maybe he should just go to sleep. Try to not overanalyze things until he ruins them for once.

“Don’t apologize,” he just mumbles, looking down on his crossed legs and folding his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do.

It feels a bit like a waste, this—having Harry this close and not taking advantage of it. But Louis can’t do that now, not when he’s this confused, not when he’s just now realizing how much he actually cares about this creature, this self-involved, morally ambiguous, spoiled _boy_.

Things were easier when he hated him, Louis thinks.

He keeps running through his thoughts, clawing at the corners of his mind trying to make sense of things, sinks so deeply into his thoughts he almost forgets Harry is actually in there with him for a minute.

Then he feels a hand trace the outline of his left wing, and Louis is snapped out of it, and he recoils with a glare.

One, because it took him very much by surprise, especially with him being so lost in thought, and two, his wings are _his business_.  

“Don’t you dare.” He narrows his eyes at Harry, voice stern. “First off, invasion of privacy, and second, if you would ever even think about doing and intentional or unintentional damage to my wings—“

“ _What_? I wasn’t going to,” Harry snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away as he mutters, barely audibly, “Would it hurt to have some trust for once?”

Louis inhales sharply, fixing Harry with a disbelieving stare. His reaction might be a little harsh, he admits, but honestly? He’s allowed to be paranoid when he _just_ got his wings back, he also can’t help to be snappy when his head is this much of a jumbled mess.

Also the way Harry put that makes him quite, well, angry.

“Have some _trust_ for once? Find me one person in your surroundings who’s trusted you more than I’ve done during this trip, Harry.”

“Fuck off,” Harry spits, but Louis knows it’s because the fairy is right. “I’m _sorry_ , I just—I like them, alright? I was just admiring them. They’re… They’re really pretty.”

The hostility on Louis’ features washes away to be replaced with confused surprise. His shoulder fall as his body relaxes, air slowly seeping out of his nose from releasing his breath.

That’s not to say he’s not a little bit suspicious of his statement. It’s such an out of the blue thing, pretty un-Harry to do, and most of all? That’s a compliment. And Louis didn’t force it out.

“ _Really_?”

Harry slides his arms closer around himself, his hands gripping his firm shoulders and he looks down on his knees. Louis has about ten different scenarios playing out in his head, ten different ways he would expect Harry to try and explain, support or push away his first statement.

What the spirit says is not a single one of them.

“I had wings once, too, you know.”

…Well. Shit.

Louis is quiet for a moment, processing this. He searches deeply for an answer to Harry’s confession, but he can’t seem to come up with one that justifies his feelings. Had, he just thinks. Harry _had_ wings once. Louis is desperately trying to hold back the sudden urge to hold him for days or maybe kiss him on the mouth a little, and he can’t pity Harry, because, well. It’s Harry.

God, he really has had a very hard time keeping that in mind recently. The thought doesn’t stick with him this time either, because Harry’s looking like dejection and rain and Louis just doesn’t _want_ him to.

“Had?” Louis settles for at last, slowly and watching Harry’s every reaction.

Harry bites his full lower lip. His hands are moving up and down his arms, as if trying to soothe himself. He’s done that before, as if he’s attempting to hug his own body, keep himself warm, give himself comfort. Louis thinks he mustn’t really have had anyone else to do that for him in his life, and his stomach sinks even more.

“We were all born with them.” Harry scratches his neck. “When the souls of algos and algea reach a certain age, there’s a ceremony in Tartaros where our wings are ripped from our bodies.”

Louis swallows. “What, just…” he makes a snatching motion with his hand, “ _ripped_? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Harry nods.

Louis’ back is stinging from the mere thought.

“ _Why_?” he wonders quietly.

Harry smiles, sadness pooling in his left dimple. “Because you can’t truly understand pain until you’ve felt it.”

Silence falls after his statement. Louis just watches the sulking individual next to him, tries to imagine him with a set of wings on his back. He wonders what they looked like, if they’d been like a sweeping crow’s, or a swift dragonfly’s. If they’d been thick like smoke or threaded like spider web.

“Were they beautiful?” he can’t help but ask.

“Huh?”

“The wings,” Louis clarifies and swallows. “Were they beautiful?”

A light and wistful sigh leaves Harry’s lips, but it’s not a painful one. He kind of looks… At peace.

“You should’ve seen them,” he says. “They were black—soft like rainclouds. Big and majestic and reliable. The lost souls used to whisper stories about the open sky. I couldn’t wait to fly along the horizon one day, see and feel all the things the humans could never see and feel but always wanted to do. Of course, I didn’t exactly get the chance. My wings were never supposed to stay—they were purposely put on me to be ripped off. I’m a spirit, I can already transfer through air. What would I need wings for, really?”

He lies down with his head sinking into the soft pillows, crossing his legs and supporting the back of his head with his hands. “Wings are always wings, though, aren’t they? Necessary or not,” he philosophizes, more to himself now than to Louis. Louis listens. “They always mean a lot to you, regardless. They hold so many things. It’s like losing a part of your mind, you know? It’s not like… a leg or a hand. It’s rather your—spirit, I guess. Your drive. Your innocence. Your dreams.” He closes his eyes. “I haven’t had a single dream since I lost my wings.”

Gravity is itching in Louis’ fingertips, pulling and clawing under his skin to reach out to Harry like he’s the center of mass, like in that very moment, he balances Louis’ entire world. It doesn’t make sense, least of all to Louis, but if he doesn’t at least try to make Harry smile a little more genuinely, his heart is never going to stop screaming.

Cautiously but determinedly, it’s Louis’ turn to inch closer to Harry until they’re shoulder to shoulder on the bed, and he turns to his side so he can drape an arm around Harry’s middle and rest his head delicately on Harry’s chest.

Harry is definitely not breathing, and Louis wonders briefly if maybe this was a bad idea.

He doesn’t think it is, though. It feels like the right thing to do.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, breathless voice further confirming the fact that his unmoving ribcage already suggested.

“I’m cuddling you,” Louis answers simply. “What does it look like?”

“Why are you cuddling me?”

“Because I think you need it.”

“I don’t.”

“I can move if you want.”

Silence. Then,

“No.”

Louis smiles against Harry’s shirt. He feels the exact moment Harry relaxes, and he considers his work done. For someone who’s not actually made of flesh and bone, Harry’s always surprisingly warm and solid, even soft in places and the way he feels so real makes Louis’ throat dry and his insides a little wobbly.

(He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t want to question it. Doesn’t dare to.)

“Well,” he says at last. “I’m going to sleep. If you make me have nightmares or something I will punch you in the face.”

“I can’t make you have anything, my powers are invalid here,” Harry snorts. “Besides, that would be Phobetor’s job anyway.”

 The corners of Louis’ mouth almost twitches. Almost. “Well, then. Nevertheless, I’ll find a reason to punch you.”

“Can you even reach my face, pixie?” Harry sounds way too amused for Louis’ liking.

“We’re lying down, genius. I could kick you in the face if I wanted to.”

“Your language is so violent for someone who enjoys cuddling this much.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.”

(Louis doesn’t go to sleep. He pretends to, nuzzling his face into the nape of Harry’s neck with heavy and soft breaths, eyes closed against the smoothness of his skin. He feels Harry slowly intertwine their hands when the spirit is sure Louis is asleep, and the kind of stardust hurricane swirling in Louis’ stomach from the small gesture, when Harry’s palm is pressed up against his own small one, is concerning. His lips are tingling from being so close to Harry’s skin, close enough to taste it, if he’d want to. His toes going numb and his head light, and the way his nerves quiver every time Harry breathes, rising and sinking both their ribcages in sync. It’s all so very concerning.

It’s concerning and new and deep down Louis knows what it means but he doesn’t want to, and it’s a _problem_ now.

He knows he can’t suppress it for a lot longer. He doesn’t sleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who DID !! THAT !!
> 
> aaa i'm not too fond of this chapter at all it feels messy n rushed and it's literally nothing but dialogue i'm ridiculous i need help but HEY !! it's an update !! can u belieb !!  
> i hope yall had a nice winter break/holiday/new years :') i was gna update then as a gift but then i got sick n it got delayed even further i'm a Mess
> 
> BUT as always thank u sososososo much to all of u who give kudos and comment and read u make my day i'm grateful every second i read all comments and they make my heart warm and cozy ilu :')))))))) 
> 
> if u feel like talking i'm always ready to love u unconditionally at my tumblr @tequiladimples xxxxx


	20. chapter 18; asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.

Needless to say, Zayn doesn’t sleep a lot that night.

It’s a lot to take in. Travel through a world portal, turning the target for your insufferable crush into a golden statue, meeting Thor and Sif, _and_ to top it off be presented with the information that you’re in fact from a fairy-tale world you’ve only ever dreamed about for your whole life? It’s kind of extremely overwhelming to get to know all of this within the timespan of a day. Hell, experiencing _one_ of those things would’ve been enough to make him question everything he’s ever known.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise that he spends the whole night, tossing and turning while Niall sleeps blissfully in the other bed. None of this is keeping the blond boy restless, that’s evident, and Zayn envies him as he turns his pillow over to the cool side once more, closing his eyes shut and trying to loosen his puzzled frown.

It doesn’t really work, and by the time light start peeking through the tiny gap between the rugged curtains, the only sleep Zayn’s gotten are a few minutes here and there. His bones ache with exhaustion, but every time he’s on the verge of falling asleep the image of Liam, lifeless and petrified in a supporting stance creeps onto his closed eyelids, etching itself into his cornea and rooting inside his head, and he always has to open his eyes again, rapidly and with a sharp inhale. He tries to push those thoughts away, but he can’t. Not when he has this much time and room, such a golden opportunity to dwell.

It will be fine, he reminds himself repeatedly throughout the night and until dawn, whispering to himself like a broken record. _It will be fine. It will be fine. He will be fine. We will be fine._

The sunrise has only been going on for a couple of minutes when Niall’s bed finally start creaking, signalizing the movement that means the boy is waking up. Zayn doesn’t look his way, but continues staring up at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and dents in the rock tiles above him with his eyes.

“Good morning,” Niall chirps finally and stretches his torso, joyful as ever. “Did you sleep well?”

“Sure,” Zayn says, not breaking his thorough examination. “As one does, after turning someone into a lifeless statue.”

Niall sighs, and the bed creaks again followed by the soft sound of bare feet against stone, and the blond boy makes his way over to Zayn’s bed.

“You know, it wasn’t your fault,” he says, sitting down at Zayn’s bedside, and he’s serious now. Sincere. “No one blames you. Liam is going to be okay, and when he comes back I’m one hundred percent sure he won’t blame you either.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Zayn mumbles. “I’d be pretty pissed.”

“If Liam did that to you, on accident, would you be pissed at him?”

Zayn doesn’t answer right away.

“No,” he finally admits. “But I have some kind of ridiculous school girl crush on him, so he could probably chop my leg off and I’d thank him.”

Niall chuckles. “And you honestly don’t think he maybe feels the exact same way? The guy could barely stand up straight around you for the first couple of hours you knew each other and he’s a fucking shapeshifter. Have you ever heard of a naturally clumsy wolf?”

Something stirs in Zayn’s stomach at the way Niall so surely and convincedly forms his words, and he finally shifts his gaze to look at him. The boy is wearing a small smile and his eyebrows are raised, waiting for Zayn’s response.

“I guess not,” Zayn replies and allows himself to smile a little, too.

Then again, he hasn’t met anyone quite like Liam before, in any meaning of the shapeshifter’s being. He hasn’t met someone as humble or purely well-meaning in his life, who speaks with more humbleness or acts with more kindness. Liam is something new, to Zayn who’s lived all his life around humans, selfish, arrogant humans. Liam is _pure_.

Niall nods, satisfied, and pats Zayn’s arm lightly.

“It’ll be alright!”

“I mean there’s still the chance that we, you know… Won’t make it. Given that we don’t know what that ‘clue’ Thor spoke of is. It could be something that prevents us from picking it too. Couldn’t it?” the dark eyed boy asks carefully, not wanting to ruin Niall’s good mood but he figures that it’s important to be realistic here, mood killing or not.

Maybe he should’ve understood by now that it takes nothing less than a world changing disaster to make Niall’s mood drop, but his smile doesn’t even falter a little at Zayn’s statement. On the contrary, it grows a little bigger and the boy tilts his head curiously.

“You… Don’t know what the clue is?”

Zayn frowns immediately. Is he missing something?

“You do?”

“We all do. It’s no secret, the gods here are just senile.” Niall grins and starts reciting it. “’Only those with hands of gold apples from the tree will hold’. There is a reason why Idun and Sif are the only ones in this world having golden hands. No ill willing Gods can have access to that tree. Louis is also a little spontaneous when it comes to big decisions, but if we didn’t know for sure that it was in fact one hundred percent possible for us to actually get the apples, Harry would’ve stopped him. Is there seriously nothing on that in that universe bible of yours?”

“No,” Zayn shakes his head, a little taken aback. “No, they… That’s not in there. It doesn’t say a lot about Idun at all, actually.”

Niall mutters something about how typically Earth that is, to ignore one of the most important women in history, and then sighs.

“Well. Now you know,” he states. “Let’s get up. See if the lovebirds are awake yet. Go for some breakfast. Pick some apples.”

He staggers away from Zayn’s bed to the bag where their clothes are safely and carefully packed and starts digging for something to wear. He manages to pick out a pair of shorts and a tank top for himself and also throws a similar outfit at Zayn, before he stops in his tracks as he looks down into the bag again.

”Fuck!” He exclaims, reaching into it to pick something up.

He turns around, thrusting a bottle in the air with a stressed expression etched into his features.

Lube. He’s holding a bottle of lube.

Zayn is confused.

“What, um. What exactly…”

Niall doesn’t pay attention to him, just groans and slaps his free hand over his face.

“This was supposed to be in the other bag! God, I’m so stupid, I can’t believe I forgot to put it there.”

Zayn is… Not any less confounded. He narrows his eyes and raises his eyebrows, trying to figure out why exactly Niall feels like it’s his personal task to provide Harry and Louis with lube.

“Are… Are you usually this invested in other peoples’ sex lives?” he asks slowly.

Niall licks his lips and stifles a laugh, shaking his head as if the question is infinitely amusing to him.

“You have no idea, my pal.” He sighs deeply and puts the bottle down, settling on just getting dressed, rambling away as he does so. “Oh, well. I guess there’s one more night here, right? Besides, they need to bond, too. A relationship isn’t all sex. Doesn’t have to be at all, necessarily. It’s fine. They could do good with some mutual blowjobs at most and a heart to heart, too, really, this isn’t a catastrophe or anything, just a minor inconvenience, I know that, it’s just, you know, I had _one_ _job_ —“

Maybe all of this should make Zayn understand something, or clear this whole situation up, but it really doesn’t. If anything, he’s just slightly creeped out by how emotionally invested Niall is in Louis and Harry’s relationship. Or whatever it is they have.

“Mate. What _are_ you?” Zayn can’t help but let out, staring at his friend.

It doesn’t even faze Niall a little bit, as he just sighs.

“Why do people keep asking this? A failure, Zayn. I’m a failure. Let’s just go see how our not-penetrative-sex-having friends are doing.”  

He pulls on his shoes and is out the door within seconds. Zayn is left behind for a bit, just staring at the door Niall just disappeared out of with furrowed eyebrows and a slack jaw. He blinks once, twice, three times, and then he just breathes deeply before quickly getting dressed and following suit.

The door to Louis and Harry’s room is already ajar, and Zayn slides it open fully to see why it’s still so quiet in there. Niall isn’t exactly the gentlest alarm clock, from what he’s seen.

But Niall isn’t making any sounds now. No, he’s just standing there, dead in his tracks, eyes firmly trained on the huge bed in front of him.

Harry is lying on his back with Louis wrapped around his whole body, both boys still fast asleep. Their legs are tangled together and Louis’ face is nestled into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry has his nose in Louis’ wispy fringe. Their hands are loosely interlocked. 

Neither of them has even bothered to strip out of their clothes, or slip under the fluffy covers. It’s all endlessly tender and pure, sleep softening their faces and syncing their breathing, washing away the jagged wall of bickering and insecure hostility that’s usually standing tall between them.

Zayn slowly takes his eyes off the couple, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable and intruding seeing them like this, and lets his gaze wander to Niall.

The blond boy has the widest smile he’s ever seen on his face, eyes _sparkling_ with delight.

“Well. They made that work perfectly fine on their own,” he breathes, standing absolutely still for another couple of seconds, cherishing the moment.

Then he snaps out of it, clapping his hands together and taking a few steps forward until he’s right by the bed.

“Right, lovebirds, as cozy and lovely as this looks there is a new day ahead of us! Time to wake up! The sun is—“ he throws a quick look at the window, “—well, it could be a bit more radiant, but it’s up and out there and so should we be!”

Louis groans, his eyes only fluttering open for a few seconds before closing determinedly again, a hand fisting in Harry’s t-shirt. The spirit under him seems to grow aware of his surroundings slightly quicker as he darts his eyes around the room, and when they fall on Niall and Zayn watching the pair closely, he clears his throat and subtly lets go of his grip on Louis’ hand.

Niall’s foot is tapping impatiently against the floor.

“We don’t have any time to lose, boys! I say we all meet in the dining room in 15. No exceptions. Chop, chop!”

Niall claps his hands to enunciate his words, and then he turns around and drags Zayn out of there.

“I would’ve been more headstrong but one, Louis looked so comfortable I didn’t have the heart to force him and two, I’ll be honest, we’re lucky if we manage to find our way through this maze of a house to the dining room in under 15 minutes.”

Zayn stares down the hallway they’re currently making their way through, observing how many possible turns and doors there are, and he thinks that Niall’s probably right.

 

~

 

He is right.

When they descend from the—right set of—stairs and _finally_ into the dining room, more than 15 minutes has indeed most likely passed, and Thor and Sif are already sitting opposite each other by the table, digging in on the biggest breakfast Zayn has ever seen in his entire life.

Harry and Louis are also already sitting there, side by side, happily loading oatmeal and rich fruits onto their plates.

“How the—“ Zayn starts, bringing four pairs of eyes to him and Niall in the doorway.

“Zayn!” Louis greets cheerily. “We were wondering when you’d come. Place is a maze, isn’t it? Would’ve taken us ages too if Harry didn’t have his convenient spirit transportation.”

He pats Harry’s shoulder delicately and Harry tries to look unbothered.

Zayn blinks.

“Are all magical creatures just natural early risers?” he can’t help but ask.

“Absolutely not,” Harry deadpans around a mouthful of lingonberry bread. “We just had the misfortune to be stuck with two.”

Louis looks like he wants to interfere, oppose Harry’s statement, but Thor clears his throat before he has the opportunity to. Probably for the best too, Zayn thinks. He hasn’t spent that much time around the two yet, up until now mostly being focused only on Liam, but you’d probably have to be all sorts of ignorant to be able to miss the pair’s endless bickering.

“Most possible preparation for your journey has been made. You are provided with a map, food and beverage, and you will also be armed. Not that we think there’s a _guarantee_ that you’ll need that kind of defense,” Thor’s quick to add when he catches Louis’ widened stare. “But because this is a place where wicked creatures who might usually be hiding away now has surfaced because us Gods are too weak and old too keep them away.”

Zayn swallows, a strange mix of excitement and fear stirring in his stomach. They’re really doing this. _He’s_ really doing this. It’s slowly dawning upon him what he’s gotten himself into here. 

It’s not like he couldn’t guess that it’d be dangerous. He was well aware of that when he followed here. He just didn’t care, the want and need of staying with these boys overweighing any potential danger. It still overweighs it. He would by no means go home given the chance.

But. You know. It’s not like he’s not a little bit scared at the thought of going out there and face potential lethal monsters. It’s basic survival’s instinct to be slightly skeptical towards the idea. He’ll still go with. He won’t voice his concerns, and he will try to be an asset to their team instead of a disadvantage. But that doesn’t mean his palms aren’t getting a tiny bit sweaty at the thought of what can happen, if they’re extremely unlucky.

He’ll still do it, though. If standing face to face with death is what he must do to get Liam back, to see him smile and talk and look at Zayn like he’s the best person alive—then he’ll do that.

(He bites into a pear and almost beats a tooth out, realizing that the fruit in his hand is now golden. He sighs dejectedly.)

“Actually, I’ve been thinking,” Louis suddenly starts, earning everyone’s eyes on him, and a few raised eyebrows as well. “And we’re going about this whole excursion all wrong.”

A tentative silence falls over the table, no one really sure what he means by this. Praying with all his heart that the fairy isn’t for some reason trying to get them into trouble and fuck up Sif’s part of the deal, Zayn says:

“Would you… Mind elaborating?”

Louis straightens his back confidently.

“We’re getting ready to travel by foot or wings to the golden apples,” he starts, “when we have a person among us already who can search this whole world in five minutes flat _and_ can teleport people with him. Or well, one person. But we only really need to get one person over there, don’t we?”

He finishes with clapping his hands together and throwing a meaning look first at Zayn and then around the table.

It does make sense, Zayn thinks. It does. Only two of them going lessens the number of people to possibly get hurt, it takes a lot less time than walking—enough to have Liam back _today_ —and it would overall be a lot more efficient. He can’t argue on that.

The only thing that he can come up with is that from what he’s gathered so far… Harry doesn’t seem to like him that much. They’ve exchanged a couple of jokes, some appreciative smiles, but other than that the spirit hasn’t really been the warmest around Zayn. Not that Harry seems like an extremely smiley and extroverted person in general, but. He gets along just fine with both Niall and Liam, and, well—Louis is just on another level, isn’t he? Zayn shouldn’t compare anyone to Louis.

But him, Harry isn’t too fond of, and though Zayn could only guess why (maybe it’s draining for him to be around Zayn, who has such a history of suffering), he doesn’t want to do this trip if it’s going to make Harry uncomfortable.

To confirm his conspiracies, Harry doesn’t look keen on the idea at all. His eyes have gone wide and posture rigid, a small wrinkle creasing between his brows.

“I—don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he tries.

“It’s literally a perfect idea,” Louis counters immediately, and Harry looks… strangely pained.

“I don’t think it’ll work. If we do encounter trouble none of us will be able to fend for ourselves.”

“Honestly, Harry? Niall and I can’t help you with that, either. Thor already said, they’ll arm you if you want.”

“Yeah, but it’s—it’s very draining. For me, to take someone with me into that other form. It’s going to tire me out.”

“Bullshit. I never tire you out.”

“Yeah, but you’re—you.” Harry is silent for a bit, seemingly hesitating on whether he should elaborate. “I know you. It works with you. It’s different.”

Louis is very evidently trying to not get flustered, eyelashes fluttering a little and he seems at loss for words for a few seconds, but somehow the admission from Harry only makes him more determined to send Harry and Zayn out there on their own.

“Then maybe you just have to get to know Zayn too to make it work!” he states in a sweetly stern way Zayn has only ever heard Louis pull off in his life. “You can do this, you know it and I know it. It’s going to be a piece of cake for you. Or do you have any other objections I need to dismiss first?”

Harry purses his lips and narrows his eyes at Louis really quickly, apparently too nice to just get it out in the open that his problem is with Zayn himself. Zayn respects that. Harry’s pretty decent for a pain spirit, actually. They’re supposed to be vicious things with seductive exterior and malicious minds, not grumpy beings with crushes on fairies.

Zayn finds himself less and less opposed to the idea of getting Harry alone. Maybe if there’s only the two of them, he could actually figure out 1. why Harry’s guard is so high when it comes to him and 2. how much Harry knows about him so that Zayn could maybe feel safe disintegrating his own wall.

Niall and Zayn watches Harry and Louis as they stare at each other intently, clearly having some kind of silent argument, until Harry finally breaks it and looks down on his hands, sighing.

“Fine. Yeah. Sure, yeah, we’ll go. If that’s alright with you, Zayn?” he lets his gaze meet Zayn’s hesitantly.

Zayn nods.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

It’s quiet for a bit, everyone at the table exchanging looks as the new plan settles.

“Very well,” Sif says at last. “Niall and Louis, you are of course very welcome to stay here in the meantime.”

 

~

 

Said and done, after breakfast Zayn and Harry get a bag big enough to have room for both all the apples and some other necessities, and they’re good to go. Thor and Sif shakes their hands, thank them once again and wish them good luck by the door and Zayn smiles and tries to appear his calmest. Louis and Harry are having some kind of half assed argument slash weird flirting session (“It’ll be _fine_ , Harry. I know I’ve raised the standards for everything in your life but that’s something you have to deal with.” “Can’t. Standards are just too high, Lou. You’ve ruined my life.” “You ruined mine too. Next argument.” “You think I’m fantastic, though.” “I do not.” “You literally said that.” “I do not recall.”) and Zayn just rolls his eyes faintly. It’s sort of cute, but he’ll deny it until his dying day.

So finally, Harry walks up beside Zayn and grabs his hand.

“Just don’t let your thoughts wander away, yeah?” he says. “Do exactly what you did last time and we’ll be fine.”

Zayn just nods, and then they’re pulled into that kind of fleeting unconsciousness he can’t decide if he likes or not.

Harry is being very efficient—a lot quicker than when they travelled to the barn. Their surroundings pass by and change so quickly Zayn just sees them as a blur of green and brown and ocher, and he does have a hard time focusing his thoughts but he still manages to, and soon enough they land again, safe and sound and Zayn only being a little weak in the knees.

He lets out a gasp, still focusing his gaze on the ground as he tries to regulate his breathing a little.

“That was a ride,” he says.

Harry doesn’t answer, and at first Zayn thinks okay, is that how it’s going to be, they’re not even going to talk?

But then he notices Harry’s stiff stance and wide eyes, and Zayn’s dark eyes turn to the golden tree for the first time.

And, well. _Shit_.

It seems they’re not… Alone.

There’s a giant wolf strapped to the foot of the tree, held back by a thick chain. It watches the newly arrived pair with hunger and aggression, a growl escaping from the very pits of its stomach. Zayn’s heart is suddenly in his throat, and all he can think is _fuck_ , _fuck_ , _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ , because he _knows_. He knows who this is.

Fenrir.

Zayn knows about Fenrir, used to dream nightmares about Fenrir as a child. He knows the story so clearly, the story about the huge, aggressive wolf who in the end the Gods deemed too dangerous and vicious to do anything else with but chain him to a boulder until the end of time.

His mind recites the chapter from his Mythology bible, words ringing and bouncing around in his head.

_For their third attempt at fettering the beast, the Gods had the dwarves make them the strongest chain they could ever build. When they tried tricking Fenrir into thinking this was just another test of strength, Fenrir got suspicious when he saw the unusually aesthetic and smooth appearance of his fetter and demanded one of the Gods put their hand in his mouth for good faith. At last Tyr volunteered, and knowing he’d soon be one hand short, the Gods fettered the enormous wolf._

_And sure enough, when Fenrir found himself unable to break away from his bonds, he violently ripped Tyr’s hand off from his arm. He was at last chained to a boulder and a sword was placed in his mouth to keep it open. There he was to remain, until the day of Ragnarok._

“Ah!” a voice suddenly calls out behind them, ripping Zayn out of his venting thoughts. “I knew they’d send someone again sooner or later.”

Both Harry and Zayn turn on their heel rapidly, taking in the—also incredibly old—god standing in front of them. His skin is floppy and his hair is silver, but he’s got a menacing glint in his eye that leaves Zayn not doubting even for a second, that this must be Loki.

Loki has kind of always been a favorite of Zayn’s, always the one bending morals and creating chaos, but right now he’s a little too shaken up to feel starstruck. Besides, if freeing Fenrir is Loki’s doing, Zayn might just have to rethink his previous opinion on him.

The god saunters over to them, eyeing the black swirls on Harry’s arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Greek, huh?” he asks.

“Tartaros,” Harry deadpans right back, eyes stern and Zayn knows it’s supposed to be a threat. _Stay the fuck away_.

Loki clicks with his tongue, nodding with a pout. “Impressive. Too bad you’re powerless here, isn’t it?”

Harry falters, but only the tiniest fragment and only for half a second, and he makes sure to not break their eye contact.

“I won’t need that.”

Loki smiles ominously.

“Look, I’m not here to fight,” he says. “I just want you to pick the apples. And then give them all to me.”

Harry barks out an incredulous laugh.

“Nice try, not happening. Now, remove your fucking beast from the tree or you’re not getting any apples at all.”

That’s when Zayn’s voice finally comes back to him, strained and breathy, but nonetheless there. Fenrir being away from the boulder he’s usually chained to is a disaster in itself. Zayn thinks of all the legends he’s read, he thinks of Ragnarok, he thinks of how that’s when Fenrir finally breaks free.

“Oh my god. Oh my god you can’t do this,” Zayn says, panic visible in his eyes. “Setting Fenrir free is a contributing factor to your _apocalypse_.”

“It is,” Loki agrees like it’s no big deal at all, hungry eyes still trained on the apples behind them. “But he’s not free yet, is he? So let me just tell you what’s going to happen here.”

He lets his eyes wander nonchalantly from Zayn to Harry and back as he calmly explains.

“I’m going to untie Fenrir from the tree, and you’re going to pick every single apple you can find. When you have done so, you will give them to me, and I will become young again. I will then take the apples and give them out to the Gods—but it’s not free, of course. They’d have to trade a favor for an apple. Or something else in their possession I might want. They’ll do anything to get their youth back. It’s a fantastic opportunity for me.”

Fenrir growls so threateningly and deeply the hairs on Zayn’s arms stand up and he flinches back. His mind is screaming uncontrollably, absolutely positive he’s going to pass out from a heart attack anytime now.

Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t seem very scared. Just careful, guarded. Zayn thinks that he must of course already have experience with people like this, and he’s, to be frank, extremely happy it’s Harry here with him, and not someone else.

“And if we don’t?” Harry asks calmly. “If we refuse?”

Loki shrugs.

“Then I’ll send Fenrir on you. Since all Gods here will die anyway eventually if they don’t get the apples, and you won’t pick them because you don’t want people to receive them on _my_ conditions… I see no reason as to why I shouldn’t release him and make it all move a little quicker.”

Fuck, he does have a point. He does. Zayn knows he does, and he knows that Harry knows he does, too.

“So as I see it,” Loki concludes, “your choice is between letting everyone, including yourselves, live, or letting everyone, including yourselves, die. What’s it going to be?”

Zayn turns to Harry to try and see what he’s thinking, to discuss it maybe, see if there are other options, but Harry doesn’t move in the slightest as he just utters:

“Fine. Untie your monster.”

Loki hums appreciatively and waltzes up to Fenrir, loosening the chain from the tree with steady hands and leads the wolf away from the tree, giving Harry and Zayn entrance to start picking the apples. He makes sure to keep Fenrir just a few inches away from them, though, big and hostile, breathing down their necks as a reminder that he’s close enough to hear any kind of words they might exchange with each other.

Zayn raises a shaky hand to wrap his fingers around one of the shiny fruits, slowly but easily detaching it from its branch. The apple is smooth and heavy in his hand as he lowers himself to the ground and puts it down by his feet before repeating the process again and again, as slowly as he can to give both him and the curly haired spirit some time to think this through. Think of a way out.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just watches as it happens with an empty sort of haze on his features, and Zayn hopes to every single god there ever was that that’s what he looks like when he’s coming up with a masterplan to solve all their problems. Not a single word is said as Zayn keep draining the tree of its fruit, and several minutes must have passed when he finally puts down the last one on the ground.

The next couple of seconds go by so quickly that if you’d blink, you’d might just miss it all.

Harry reaches down, shoving all the apples into their bag, and then grabs Zayn by the shoulder. Loki, immediately realizing the spirit’s intentions, lets out a furious cry and lets go of Fenrir’s chain.

It all happens within a matter of microseconds, the way Fenrir roars and leaps at them, but Zayn’s world kind of stops. A thousand thoughts are flowing through his mind at once, colliding with each other, burying themselves in the back of his mind, banging on his cranium, seeping out through his ears, replacing themselves with new ones.

He’s going to die. This is it for him. His reckless adventure lasted for a couple of days and now his time is _here_ , and he’s never going to see any of his new-made friends again. Never going to see Liam again. Liam, who they are here to save, Liam who may now have to remain a golden statue forever as the gods of Asgard withers away around him—

As one last reflex, he raises his hands to shield his face, holding them out in front of him as the final thing he sees before closing his eyes is a massive jaw, open wide and hungrily.

His palm meets a wet nose. And then it meets a rock-hard surface.

And then nothing more happens.

At first, Zayn thinks that he’s dead. He’s entirely convinced for a good twenty seconds, that he’s dead and gone, and he thinks that wow, at least it was painless. He’s sort of grateful.

Then he realizes that his eyes are still closed, so he slowly and carefully opens them, ready to comprehend and embrace whatever afterworld he’s now fallen into.

And he’s met by a giant wolf’s open jaw.

It’s golden. Petrified in its place.

Zayn releases a sharp exhale and stumbles backwards as reality and the realization that he’s still alive washes over him like an ice cold ocean, sending shivers down his spine and tingles through his veins.

Everything’s completely silent for the longest of time as Zayn and Harry just stands there completely floored, staring at the enormous lifeless wolf in front of them.

And Loki? Loki looks like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest, jaw slack and eyes blown, snapping back and forth from Zayn to Harry to Fenrir at a disturbingly rapid pace, trying to make sense of the situation.

And then he speaks. Or screams, rather.

“ _What_!? How did this _happen_!?”

He nails Zayn to his spot with an enraged glare.

“How _dare you_ ,” he fumes and staggers towards Zayn, hands out as if he’s just waiting to choke him, “ _how dare_ —“

Zayn panics at the frankly murderous fire in Loki’s eyes, and when the god is close enough, Zayn lets his hands lock around Loki’s wrists and—

And then there are two golden statures. One just as furious—and lifeless—as the other.

Zayn can’t do anything but stare at his creation, if it’s in complete terror or amazement he can’t tell.

He just transformed an Asgardian and one of their most dangerous beasts… Into statues.

He just turned Loki and Fenrir into _statues_. With his _bare hands_.

Beside him, Harry makes his first sound since the apple picking started, and it’s an exasperated and incredulous—but relieved, nonetheless—laughter.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers in-between snickers. “Oh my _god_ , Zayn.”

He stumbles backwards until his back is against the tree, sinking down against it with a hand on his stomach.

“That was so fucking awesome.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Zayn, still holding out his hands in front of his body like they’re some sort of ticking bombs, allows himself to breathe out a laughter, as well.

They almost died. They almost _died_. And Zayn?

Zayn just saved them both.

“We’re alive,” he can’t help but grin distractedly. He slouches down on the ground as well, his hands fisted just in case, but right now he can’t bother to feel bad or worried about his feelings being out of control.

It’s a kind of shaken up, bitter euphoria that must only be able to stem from surviving a near death experience. They’re both sitting there, laughing and giggling between heavy breaths, exchanging amazed looks, settling down into reality again. Things are okay. They’ve got the apples. They’re going travel back, make the gods young, and they’re going to get Liam back. Zayn’s going to get Liam back.

They do manage to calm down after a while, finding a steady pace for their breathing and a more tranquil state of mind, and for a bit they just sit there, staring up into the sky, appreciating being alive.

Harry is clearly in a good mood right now, Zayn notes, a bit more approachable than usual. So, he figures that maybe this is his shot at finding out a thing or two about what the spirit thinks of him.

“Not to step on any toes,” he starts reluctantly. “But can I ask you something?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow and looks down with a shrug. “Sure.”

It’s quiet for a bit as Zayn tries to come up with the best way to form his sentence. He doesn’t want to sound accusing, but he also doesn’t want to sound like a pushover. Or desperate for approval, or whatever.

“You don’t like me very much,” he lightly states at last, eyes steady on Harry’s face to await the spirit’s reaction.

The left corner of Harry’s mouth twitches, sporting a dimple.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I’m just curious, is all.”

Harry sighs.

“I don’t dislike you personally. You’re definitely the most tolerable human I’ve met, it’s not that. It’s your…”

Harry gestures with his hands into the air as if Zayn will understand what he can’t get into words from that.

He kind of does, though, and nods.

“My pain?”

“I hurt people on a daily basis. It’s what I do,” Harry continues. “But I never have to… I never have to see it. The consequences. The bigger picture. I hurt them and I leave. I don’t ever— _ever_ —get acquainted with them.”

“So hurting people does make you feel guilty,” Zayn says slowly, pieces falling together. “Doesn’t it?”

“Not if I stay away, it doesn’t,” Harry says quickly.

“I thought spirits of algo—you know. Were programmed not to. Or whatever.”

A breathy laugh slips out of the curly haired boy.

“We might be generally ill willed, but that’s because it’s our _job_. We’re still _souls_ , Zayn, just like you. Or Louis. Or Niall, or any of the Gods here. Of course we can feel empathy. Though they try their best to erase it.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods and lets silence settle in the space between them. It’s okay, he thinks. Harry’s okay. Zayn likes him.

“You weren’t exactly ecstatic about my presence either,” Harry speaks after a while. “Were you?”

“Well.” Zayn drags out the word, makes it long and contemplating. “It’s not all that fun to know that a stranger knows your entire tragic backstory by looking at you and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah. I get that,” Harry hums. “So you weren’t, you know. Scared I’d hurt you or something?”

“No… Not really,” Zayn’s forehead wrinkles. “You seemed too comfortable with the others and they seemed too comfortable with you. And then I figured that no one with a crush on a fairy can be truly frightening at heart.”

That rips a sudden reaction out of Harry if anything.

“A cr—“ he sputters. “A crush—I don’t have a _crush_ on Louis! Where the fuck would you get that from?”

Zayn snorts.

“’Oh no, Louis, you’re _you_. You’re different’,” he mocks in a deep, drawly voice. “Let me drink tequila from your belly button and cuddle you all night to prove how much we hate each other.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry reaches over and swats his arm. “First off that sounds nothing like me, and second—“

There doesn’t really appear to be a second, because Harry just keeps opening and closing his mouth like he’s at loss for a sensible explanation.

“I just like having someone around who doesn’t treat me like I’m scary,” he tries at last.

“Harry,” Zayn says slowly. “Louis isn’t the only one who does that. I don’t do that, and not Niall or Liam, either. So unless you feel the same way about us as you do about Louis, it’s probably safe to say that’s not it.”

Harry doesn’t answer, just looks down on his hands.

“It is okay, you know,” Zayn continues carefully then. “To like him? It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry deadpans bitterly. “Mother would punish me, and then she would punish him, and after that I would probably be disowned and Louis would be so traumatized he wouldn’t even be able to look at me ever again.”

There’s no denial, Zayn notes. Harry is clearly more in touch with his feelings than he cares to admit.

“So that’s why you’re trying to fight it?”

Zayn waits patiently as Harry struggles with the words, knowing that the spirit must need this. Must’ve kept a lot inside for a while. With every vulnerable sentence that leaves Harry’s lips Zayn’s perspective on him changes a little more, too, changes into something more… Human.  

“Yes. No.” Harry sighs and pulls his knees up to his torso to rest his elbows on. “I don’t fucking know what Louis’ position in all this is,” he finally admits. “He’s so. He’s so difficult. Infuriating. Not only does he always oppose me and deliberately bug me but it’s also… I’ve told him things about myself that I’ve never told anyone else—and he’s always so amazing about it—but… He doesn’t really tell me anything. I know _him_ , but I don’t ever really know what he’s thinking because he doesn’t seem to trust me with that. And I can’t help feeling like this whole ordeal means more to me than it does to him. And I don’t do that kind of thing.”

It’s kind of blowing Zayn’s mind, how layered and genuine the spirit is. How he admits these things so delicately, like he knows exactly what he’s saying, has thought it over again and again. It’s a kind of vulnerability Zayn wouldn’t ever expect to see in him, and he can’t help but feel very happy Louis so demandingly sent them off so they could have a talk like this. He can’t help but smile a little as he realizes that Harry isn’t shallow nor suffering a terrible superiority complex, nor is he as overly confident as he so doubtlessly plays out to be.

Most of Harry’s exterior personality traits are derived from other’s biased perception of him, and Zayn is all kinds of thankful he gets to see Harry as a creature of depth, of versatility. Someone who’s both cynical _and_ sensible, proud _and_ eloquent.

“Have you ever asked him anything about himself, then?” he asks slowly.

Harry furrows his brow, deep in thought.

“I… No,” he finally allows. “I guess not.”

“Well. Maybe he’s willing to open up to you too, he just needs a push, you know? It wouldn’t hurt to just. Ask him what you want to know.”

Harry nods slowly as he considers his. At last he looks up at Zayn and gives him a crooked smile.

“Why am I telling you all of this again?”

Zayn shrugs. “Hey, you’re sitting here perfectly aware of every single painful experience and weakness I’ve ever had. It’s not more than fair to try and even it out a bit.”

Harry snickers quietly.

“You’re cool, Zayn.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”  

Zayn feels like maybe they’re supposed to be friends. Like they understand each other on a different level, like there’s no judgment between them. Now that Harry no longer is a stranger, now that he’s a person, Zayn feels kind of good about having this person who knows his deepest, darkest fears, and who faces that with no judgment at all. Just understanding. Just a pair of ears. Maybe Zayn needs that a whole lot more than he’s imagined.

Maybe Harry feels like that, too.

“So,” the aforementioned starts. “How about we get these apples to Thor so we can get our beloved werewolf back, huh?”

“Sounds good,” Zayn says, eagerly standing up. “And, uh… Get this guy back, too. Maybe.”

He carefully nudges Loki’s golden shin with his toe. Harry hums seriously.

“Maybe. But let’s leave that to the Gods to decide.”

“Let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall: zarry is dead  
> me: ....... anyways. 
> 
> SO what's this ????? an update ??,??? that took UNDER A MONTH to produce ????????? WOW !!! (i'm also ignoring abt 3 school assignments due tomorrow while writing this so @ me congrats) 
> 
> i hope u like this chapter bc i love u and care for u and want u to enjoy things in life :')))) also friendly reminder that comments and kudos clear my pores and make my crumpled soul glow and shine i adore all of u thank u for reading xxxxxxx
> 
> as always, u can always talk to me on tumblr @tequiladimples i will 100% shower u with love :')x


	21. chapter 19; asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um ?????? what's THIS ?????? AN UPDATE AFTER 2 DAYS ????????
> 
> well. it's a really short chapter bc i feel like this needed to be a chapter on its own, instead of being lumped together with the rest. but as u can see i'm v much writing and i'm feeling good abt this and :')))) i hope u enjoy this

Harry and Zayn are gone, and Louis has some business to take care of.

Come on. His plan may be logical and brilliant, but it’s not a complete coincidence that he came up with a way to get Harry out of the house while he stays behind with Niall. Louis is smarter than that, more layered than that, thank you very much, and while it is very nice to send Zayn and Harry away together as a push towards their hopefully blossoming friendship… He has an underlying motive with this arrangement.

He’s going to _talk_ today. A sleepless night later with his messy, intruding thoughts filling his defiant head, thoughts he can no longer control, thoughts about Harry and his soft hair and his plush mouth, it’s clear to Louis that something must be done.

And since he so fortunately holds the company of a cupid, it’s not more than right of him to take advantage of that. Niall will know what to do. Niall will know what to say to make Louis calm down. Maybe to make the thoughts go away, even. Niall has seen a lot of love, and Louis is sure he’ll be able to put out the hot worry in Louis’ stomach, sure he can confirm that _no, Louis, you’re just being silly_.

For that talk to happen, though, Harry must be absent, partly because Louis and Harry seem to be attached at the hip nowadays whether they like it or not, and partly because it’d look a little weird for Louis to just out of nowhere lock himself somewhere private with Niall for no apparent reason.

He’s going to deal with his Harry problem today. He’s tired of walking around in a constant state of confusion. It’s time to make sense of things.

So that’s why, as soon as they’ve said goodbye to Harry and Zayn and they’re all inside again, Louis grabs onto Niall’s arm and pulls him aside.

“We need to talk. Right now. In private.”

Niall raises an eyebrow, but shrugs complyingly.

“Alright. Sure.”

That’s all the confirmation Louis needs, before he drags the cupid up the stairs and into the closest empty room he can find. (He’s too lazy to search the whole castle for their bedrooms, okay. He’s just not feeling that kind of treasure hunt right now.)

“You think we’re allowed to be in here?” Niall asks when Louis shuts the door behind them. They’re in some kind of salon this time, with big, red curtains cladding the walls and spacious, plush couches to match, and bookshelves reaching all the way up to the ceiling. A common room, Louis assumes. A nice one at that, comfortable and cozy, very compatible with his whole deep-love-talk mood.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he says dismissively and sits down in one of the two seat couches, gesturing for Niall to do the same. “This shouldn’t take… Too long. I hope.”

“Okay,” Niall hums, taking a seat beside Louis. “The suspense is killing me. What’s on your mind?”

Louis just looks at Niall’s earnest face for a moment, not sure where he should start.

“It’s… It’s Harry,” he allows at last. “I’m confused.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Niall drags out the word, tone nothing but understanding and not even a hint of surprise, and his position shifts into something more eager. As if he’s waited for this to happen for a long time. “Of course. What’s confusing you?”

“Well.” Louis scratches his neck. “As you might know… We’ve gotten kind of close lately. And like, I don’t know why that keeps happening in the first place because—I hate him, right? Or like. Well. I don’t _like_ him like that, at least.”

Niall’s face manages to stay completely neutral, nodding encouragingly for Louis to continue, so he does.

“Right. But recently I’ve kind of had these… Feelings? You know, not. No big deal, really but they’re still there. Like, I just get urges to kiss him or hold him and when he’s sad I just feel—I feel like something is going to burst. So I’m a bit—lost, if you will. About what those feelings mean.”

“Right.” Niall mimics, ever so calm, only the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. “What does it sound like they mean, Louis?”

Louis feels his cheeks burning and he’s sure his whole face is sporting a nice pink tint right now, and he breaks their eye contact.

“I know it _sounds_ like… Like—you know. But it can’t be. It can’t be that, so. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“And why can’t it be that?” So soft, so empathetic.

”Because—because it’s not _right_ ,” Louis asserts, looking almost pleadingly at the cupid in front of him. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!”

“How what is supposed to be?”

“Love!” Louis is slowly getting worked up, both because this doesn’t seem like a big deal at all to Niall, and also because the cupid puts his questions in a light that makes them sound… Ridiculously easy. And they’re _not_. They’re not easy for him. “Love is… Love is soft. Love is pure. Love is kind and warm and _nice_. Like Liam and Zayn! That’s love, isn’t it? Me and Harry, we’re… That couldn’t ever be love.”

“But Louis,” Niall smacks his lips and shakes his head. “Louis, Louis. Love comes in many forms. There’s no strict bucket list for how you’re supposed to experience it. I know it’s easy and uncomplicated to reduce it to what Liam and Zayn have. Make it a fairytale kind of thing, a clichéd bliss. But that’s not all there is to the feeling. Love isn’t a fairytale, Louis. We’re too faceted and complex for it to be.”

What is this. What _is this_.

Not to be dramatic, but Louis feels… lied to. Louis feels like his entire life is a lie. One thing that he’s always been certain of, is that love is the antidote for all the bad, for all negativity. That it’s sweet and innocent and beautiful, the fresh and passionate breeze to come and whisk him away from grey concretes. He fists his hands in his hair, trying to make sense of it all.

“Then what _is it_?” he asks.

“It’s unfair,” Niall shrugs. “It’s fickle. It’s shaded. Just like every other emotion, because that’s what it is, Louis, it’s an _emotion_. Not some sort of salvation. And it’s very rarely what you _want_ it to be. People are exposed to unhappy kinds of love all the time—unrequited love, manipulative love, falling out of love. It’s not always _pleasant_ , Louis. I would even say love is the greatest pain of all. And if you asked Harry, I’m sure he would agree, too.”

Oh my god. Oh my _god_.

Every single word Niall speaks makes sense. It makes sense, sounds so painfully reasonable and it terrifies Louis.

“But it can’t _be_ ,” he tries hopelessly, clinging onto the last bit of safety he has. “I—we fight! We fight all the time! And we bicker, and we yell, and we hurt…”

“… And you are exactly what both of you _need_ ,” Niall finishes. “Don’t you see that?”

“We hate each other,” Louis almost whispers. “How can that be something we both need?”

“You don’t hate him, Louis,” Niall tilts his head knowingly. “You know you don’t. You like having someone who keeps up with you. You enjoy the bickering, you enjoy the challenge. You like that he opens up to you. You see good in him, Louis, more than any of us, and you don’t hate him.”

Louis is quiet.

“You are exactly what the other needs,” Niall continues. “Because you need someone to _push_ you. Harry needs someone who’s not scared of him. He needs someone who’s not afraid to defy him, who doesn’t suck up to him and does anything he wants to just because they could risk being hurt. And you, Louis, you need someone who doesn’t treat you like you’re breakable. You need someone who doesn’t look at you and is immediately afraid to harm you.”

“That’s not true,” Louis mumbles. “Harry’s called me weak numerous times.”

Niall sighs deeply, and Louis knows he’s being difficult. He knows. He just. It’s a lot to take in. It’s not like he can just go _oh yeah, seems like I’m in love with the only creature I’ve ever thought myself to hate. Big deal._ It’s too overwhelming.

“Sure, he might’ve in the past, but you’re completely missing the point. When he says stuff like that, it’s to press your buttons. It’s because he knows that that’s your weak spot. Not because he believes it to be true. Just like you’ve made quips about his powers and his origins. And besides, there’s a difference between calling someone breakable and _treating_ someone like they’re breakable. When has Harry ever tried to stop you from doing something because he thinks you’re weak? When has he laughed at your determination or not listened to your plans because he thinks you’re naïve? Give me _one time_.”

Louis doesn’t have an answer once again. He bites his thumbnail uncomfortably and closes his eyes, because he feels something wet burn in the corners of them and he can’t do this now.

“I figured,” Niall nods, taking the fairy’s silence as confirmation. “It’s what you need. You need someone to show you the bad, just like Harry needs someone to show him the good, because without the other, neither can exist.”

The fairy feels extremely small in his seat. Thoughts are whirling and twirling inside his head, making him dizzy and nauseous. This isn’t at all what he’s planned, his plan was to get some kind of confirmation that he wasn’t actually catching feelings for Harry so he could finally move on with his life and stop being so confused, but this… This is the blatant opposite, and he can’t even help it.

He thinks of Harry, he thinks of how the spirit tells him things he doesn’t tell anyone else, he thinks of soft touches and patient words, he thinks of how he made that earth human cry and gasp for air because he disrespected Louis, he thinks of how he’s slowly started to hand out tiny compliments and give Zayn a chance because Louis wants him to acknowledge the good in people. 

And Louis thinks of himself, his want to know more about Harry, his determination to help him, his cuddling and his handholding and his stupid fucking kissing, how he trusts Harry with everything and how safe he feels, and. And. And.

“You know,” Niall says carefully. “I have actually never seen two creatures so obviously being two halves of a whole before.”

And god, Louis is so royally fucked.

“Niall,” he whimpers, fighting back tears because this has been so much to push away, to hold back, suppress, suppress, suppress, and it’s all been building up for what feels like forever and _fuck_. “Niall, what do I do?”

Niall, clearly noticing how distressed this is making his friend, inches closer and puts his arms around Louis. Holds him there, holds him still, and Louis lets himself be held because he feels like without the warm pressure of another comforting body keeping him grounded he might just fall apart altogether.

“You accept it,” the cupid says, stroking a hand comfortably up and down Louis’ back. “You just accept it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D   
> i cannot belieb things are Happening 
> 
> u can, as always, come talk to me on tumblr @tequiladimples because i love people and i love you and i am always willing to shower u with LOVE and SUPPORT !!! and as always kudos and comments ??? save my life. i adore u thank u for reading xxxxxxxxxx


	22. chapter 20; asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some sexual content towards the end of this chapter. u have been warned xx

It’s a little weird, now. Louis has calmed down to the point where he just feels a little empty, a little disoriented and kind of oddly light.

He’s glad it takes Harry and Zayn a little longer than expected to get back—of course there is the worry that something might’ve happened to them, he’s not stupid and he’s not completely careless—but regardless, because it gives him some time to recompose himself, let this new concept settle in, and if he’s going to be quite honest?

He’s a little bit scared to face Harry now. Will it be different for him, will he feel different things?

Louis doesn’t know, but he hopes so intensely that it’ll be fine. He’d hate to lose their whole effortless teasing dynamics just because he had to go and fall in love.

Or, not fall in love, maybe. It’s too soon for those kind of words, isn’t it? It must be.

But then again, he also thinks of the words Sif said to Zayn last night, remembers thinking very highly of them. “If you’re confident enough that it’ll happen in the future to say ‘yet’ right now, I don’t see why we cannot just take a shortcut.”

Louis can see it, is the thing. In some version of time, where he’s sure Harry actually likes him back and they both don’t fight their feelings into exhaustion, he can see it happen. And he’s scared fucking shitless.

It’s cruel, really, that this is giving him so much stress when he’s been longing for that pink tinted butterfly feeling of falling in love all his life. It’s the one thing, except attending UoT (which—that went really well too, didn’t it?), that he’s truly been yearning for in his existence.

He’s been so naïve karma had to take him down a notch.

According to Niall, Harry is supposed to feel the same, they’re supposed to be _it_ for each other, but not even that Louis can have complete faith in, once the doubts and overthinking make their entrance.

Niall sat with him for a long time, hugging him and telling him that it’s okay for as long as Louis needed it, and then left to give Louis some time on his own to process. Louis isn’t sure how good of an idea that last part was. Leaving Louis alone to process things usually make matters worse.

Which is why, when Niall finally shows up again in the doorway, Louis is relieved at the thought of some company.

That’s not what Niall’s having in mind though, eyes wide with joy as he only peaks his head in to utter a single statement.

“They’re back!”

Something cold twists in Louis chest at the same time as a wave of ecstasy washes over him.

They’re back. They’re back, they’re not dead, but they’re _back_. Which is to say, Harry is back. Which is to say, Louis’ time to let things sink in is over.

“They’re okay?” he asks immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, it looks like it, come on!”

They both hurry on light feet out of the common room, down the stairs and out into the massive hallway, where, as promised, Harry and Zayn are standing with giddy smiles and tired eyes.

Louis forgets for a second, that things are supposed to be different now, and he dives in with the intention of pulling them both in for a hug.

But then his eyes fall on Harry, _really_ fall on him, and he has to stop in his tracks. He settles a few feet away from the pair, toes pointing inwards and pursing his mouth to the side. Will a hug make something erupt in him now? Should things be different, should Louis feel _changed_ looking at Harry now, now that there’s no doubt anymore?

There’s so much stopping Louis, and the fairy absolutely hates it. If this whole liking Harry thing is also going to ruin whatever thing they’ve managed to build up, then Louis is one hundred percent sure that it’s definitely not worth it.

But he doesn’t get more time to think it over because then Harry approaches him instead. He stops to stand unnecessarily closely to the fairy, and Louis’ breath hitches. It’s not noticeable, he doesn’t think, because Harry doesn’t seem to pay any attention to it and gives Louis a crooked smile.

The minute he actually gets to take a proper look at the fairy, though, that smile drops off of his face immediately, morphing into something concerned. Louis realizes with mortification that he must still be a bit red and puffy from his previous crying. He tries to look unbothered.

Harry doesn’t.

“Have you been crying?” he asks, brows furrowing and he looks so endlessly genuine Louis wants to cry again.

“No,” he lies, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s certainly not just going to admit it.

Of course it doesn’t work, because Harry doesn’t look even the tiniest bit convinced, and Louis also figures that if there’s one single person who definitely recognizes a person who’s recently been crying, it’s probably Harry. So rather than calming down, the spirit’s eyes harden momentarily, narrowing a little.

“Did someone do something? If someone hurt you I swear to fucking—“

“No one hurt me,” Louis snaps. “God, I’m not even crying, I told you.”

Harry quietens as his face softens again, and he tilts his head, bringing a hand up to Louis’ cheek to lightly trace the puffiness under his eyes. Louis’ heart makes a series of flips.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, though, right?” he murmurs, so sincere, and it tears at Louis’ chest. He wants to cry, definitely, desperately wants to cry. He doesn’t.

“Yeah, sure,” he breathes.

It’s not silent for more than two seconds, before Louis opens his mouth again in eager search for a subject change.

“But hey, look at you,” he states lightly. “You made it.”

“We did,” Harry agrees, smile growing again as he seemingly chooses to go along with it, and Louis is thankful. “Zayn’s cool.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Harry bites his lip and eyes Louis pensively for a moment.

“It’s been three minutes since I walked through the door and I haven’t heard an insult yet. I’m impressed.”

Louis scoffs.

“I needed to know you’re in one piece first. I have standards, I’m not going to kick you if you’re already down.”

That pulls a laugh out of Harry, short and sweet, his eyebrows twitching competitively.

“That kind of moral is what’ll have you losing your battles,” he says with feigned wistfulness.

And something comes loose in Louis then. The tight ice squeezing at his lungs melts away and his shoulders sink down to their usual level. Nothing’s changed. Louis might have come to terms with big things, and he might be shaken up, but this is still Harry. Caring, sincere, sensible. Teasing, menacing, challenging.

And Louis is _fine_.

He puffs his chest out and pats Harry’s shoulder.

“No, Harold. That kind of moral is what’s keeping you alive,” he states amiably, before moving his attention to the two other boys who are now approaching them, too.

“Man, we have _quite_ the story to tell,” Zayn exclaims, slapping a hand onto Harry’s back, and Harry grins at him.

“Zayn is officially the coolest,” he states.

Niall and Louis exchange surprised but amused looks at how friendly the two boys suddenly have become. If a tiny needle pinches Louis heart at Harry calling Zayn the coolest and not Louis, then that’s completely insignificant and irrational.

Then heavy but hurried steps are heard from the dining room, and Thor emerges with a fervent expression on his aged face.

“The apples? Do you have them?” he asks instantly as he comes closer, not even welcoming them back in his hurry.

Zayn hauls his backpack off him to zip it open and show Thor what can be nothing but the golden fruit he craves so desperately. It’s filled to the brim with them, shiny and mesmerizing and glowing from the lights of the torches on the wall.

Thor almost bursts into tears from pure joy and enthusiasm, enveloping Zayn into a bone crushing hug that leaves the human kind of pale and out of breath, before taking the backpack with shaky hands.

“Thank you,” he says in the most heartfelt tone, to all four of them. “You’ve saved our lives and we’ll be delighted to return this favour. And you’re of course staying for dinner.”

No one really has any objections.

 

~

 

Louis isn’t a jealous person. He really isn’t. He’s always perceived jealousy as a vile emotion that only affects the spiteful and insecure, and he’s confident and loves himself plenty enough to not feel worry or possessiveness like that.

But Harry and Zayn are being such _buddies_ , laughing and eagerly finishing each other’s sentences as they tell Louis and Niall all about what they’ve missed out on when they stayed here in the mansion. It’s like they’ve been friends forever, and with Harry’s suddenly being so comfortable and—well, _glowing_ , around the human now, it’s rubbing Louis the wrong way. It’s gnawing on his bones, sending an itchy feeling through his fingers.

“So Fenrir takes a _leap_ at us, and I’m just standing there like fuck, this is _it_ , but then—Zayn just shoots his hands forwards, right, and just when Fenrir is about to bite our heads off, this guy fucking _turns him into gold_ ,” Harry tells with much emphasis and hand motions. “Just like that.”

Zayn beams, and Louis can see that he’s proud, and Louis loves that, is _so_ happy he did that, but his blood still won’t run quite unimpededly, tiny teeth still biting into his veins.

“I didn’t even mean for it to happen,” he says. “I was just like—awaiting death, I really thought we were going to die. And then when I opened my eyes I had Fenrir’s golden jaw one inch from my face. I was proper shook up.”

“So was Loki,” Harry sniggers. “He just went ballistic.”

“Yeah. He was… so angry,” Zayn shakes his head.

“So what did you do, Zayn?”

“I turned him into gold, too.”

“Damn straight you did,” Harry gives him a high five and a laugh, and Louis’ stomach is dropping by the minute.

“You turned—“ Niall cuts in, eyes blown proportionally wide. “You turned _Loki_ , into gold? The _god_?”

Thor lets out a roaring laughter from his end of the table, and Zayn bites the inside of his cheek.

“To be fair, he had just released a giant wolf to kill us and I was kind of unbalanced.”

“It was amazing,” Harry sighs dreamily. “Honestly, if it weren’t for Zayn… We probably wouldn’t have made it back.”

Louis looks down on his lap and he feels a bit like throwing up, partly of course because he was _that_ close to losing them both and he was the one who sent them out there and he didn’t even _know_ , and partly—fuck, he feels so ashamed, he feels horrendous—but partly because _Zayn_ saved Harry. _Zayn_ is now the object for Harry’s sparkly gaze, he’s the one who gets to sit next to the spirit and tell a wild story with him and throw an arm around his neck.

And Louis can’t help but feel it, that ugly, disgusting feeling of _that should be me_.

It’s not a love thing—he’s well aware of how head over heels Zayn is for Liam, and Harry knows that too. It’s an _I’m usually the one who jokes around with you and makes you laugh and I’d like to think I get to see sides of you that others don’t but now you’re shining around someone else and he can fucking make gold with a touch of his hand and I’m honestly just me and I don’t know how to feel about this_.

He just feels like maybe now Harry will start preferring Zayn’s company over Louis’, is all. Because after all, he doesn’t know what Harry’s exact feelings for him are, and he hates being this unsure, this clueless. This inferior.

And Zayn is amazing, isn’t he? Cool and laidback and intellectual in a very humble and not-obnoxious way, doesn’t have a temper fickler than a stormy sky or an insufferable pride complex, and he’s not constantly picking fights with Harry, either. Unlike himself. And Louis knows Harry’s said that he likes the bickering in a way, that he likes the way Louis dares to, but surely he must grow tired of that eventually?

“I can’t believe you turned Loki into gold.” Niall shakes his head.

“Eh,” Thor waves a hand dismissingly. “The bastard got what’s coming to him.”

"I don’t actually think Loki’s bad, though," Zayn says, a thoughtful wrinkle between his eyebrows. "I mean, he’s made out to be evil. But he’s not. He doesn’t do things to cause others true harm—he’s just the god of mischief.”

“He threatened to kill you. And you don’t think he’s bad?” Louis can’t help but to blurt out, highly sceptical as he tries to make sense of that reasoning.

“No, Zayn’s… Kind of right,” Harry interferes, and it’s _so bad, so childish_ , but Louis veins tighten at the spirit agreeing with Zayn instead of with Louis. “He did have a point with it all. He wasn’t _actually_ out to kill anyone. He wanted everyone to have the apples as much as we did—he just also wanted something out of it himself. If he now is the god of mischief, who would he be if his morals weren't slightly blurred? Besides, from what I know, he always repairs the damage he makes if he can. He’s not evil. He’s fucking awful, though, regardless."

“He’s a menace, is what he is,” Sif says, a depreciating curl of her lip. “When trouble is occurring, Loki is always behind it.”

"Hm," Louis is silent for a while as he lets that sink in. "So he’s not a villain, just an inconvenience?" He gives the spirit opposite him a meaning look. "Harry, I think you have a lot in common with this guy."

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes, and Louis had hoped insulting him would make himself feel a little better, and while it was quite a good insult, it doesn’t quite do the trick.

He looks up again just in time for Niall to catch his eyes for a quick moment, pursing his mouth to the side and tilting his head a little and Louis is so exposed he honestly just wants to get up and leave.

The dinner continues under light chattering that Louis doesn’t really participate in. He can feel Harry’s eyes on him, careful and apprehensive, and he refuses to meet them for the remainder of their time at the table.

 

~

 

Sif fulfills her end of the bargain.

All the boys follow her up to the room they landed in only yesterday—accompanied by one more servant whose job seems to be to just follow Sif around—where the Liam statue is still standing painfully lifeless and tragically beautiful. There’s an prickling in Louis’ chest from looking at him, and he chooses to focus his attention on Zayn for a bit instead, to make sure he’s okay.

The human looks hopelessly aggrieved, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and straightness in his posture as he follows Sif with his gaze when she approaches Liam. When he abruptly lets out a shaky exhale, Louis understands that Sif must have started her reversing, and he turns his head back to watch.s

Sif has enveloped Liam’s petrified hand in both of her own, her eyes closed and concentrating. Slowly but surely, the skin on Liam’s arms starts shifting, moving like a gradual wave from his hand to his elbows to his shoulder to his chest, spreading and coloring and restoring.

The last thing to be unpetrified is his face, and the moment it does, Liam sinks down on the floor like his shoulders are weighing thousands of tons, like his body isn’t quite used to being human again yet.

Zayn takes a breath so erratic and sharp it sounds like he’s about to break into tiny fragments, and in two seconds flat he’s by Liam’s side, hands tightly fisted as they press against Liam’s back, but nonetheless—he’s holding the werewolf for dear life, as if his entire wellbeing is dependent on Liam’s body warmth.

Liam is evidently perplexed as he blinks rapidly numerous times to get used to his surroundings, but he locks his arms around Zayn too without even thinking. Like it’s his natural reflex. As if they’re supposed to be attached like this.

Louis has to look away after only a little while, intensely feeling like he’s intruding on something that’s not for him to see.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Zayn speaks into Liam’s neck, “oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“What… What happened?” Liam mumbles. He doesn’t let go.

Zayn just shakes his head, not even able to speak the words out loud.

“Zayn, uh,” Niall instead starts in his place. “Zayn has a power. That we didn’t know about. Turns out he has golden hands.”

Liam frowns. “Zayn’s an Earth Human.”

“Not… Exactly,” Niall says slowly. “He’s actually from Grimm, we’ve figured out. Which is why his powers work here, but of course it’s all new and Zayn didn’t know, so then when you took his hand to help him he… He turned you into gold.”

Zayn whimpers and his grip on Liam tightens.

“I’m _really_ sorry,” he stresses.

Liam doesn’t looks upset in the slightest. A little dazed, yeah, confused, edges softened with exhaustion, but not a single part of his facial expression expresses any sort of discontentment.

“Zayn’s from Grimm?” he just whispers, and Louis hears nothing but wonderment.

Niall’s smile goes gentle.

“Yeah.”

And Liam looks like he’s about to pass out at any moment, but that confirmation makes him smile so genuinely Louis almost tears up.

“I swear I’m never going to let that happen again,” Zayn declares. “God, I _promise_.”

“You’ll learn how to control it eventually,” Sif adds as a sort of consolation. “And when you do, when you know your powers like the back of your hand, it’ll only be to your biggest advantage.”

Zayn nods in swift motions, finally letting go off Liam a little to face the goddess easier.

“But,” Sif continues. “That could very well take a while. And you do not deserve to live a life completely shut off from any sort of physical contact while you work it out. So I had these made for you.”

She wiggles her finger for her servant to approach her and he does, handing her a pair of shiny golden gloves.

“I had these sewn from strands of my hair,” she explains. “Since it’s already made from gold, it will suppress your powers, should you ever need it. Only until you’ve learned to control it. I could even start giving you lessons, if you like. If you’d like to stay here for a little longer you’re all very welcome.”  

“Perhaps… One more night?” Liam requests weakly, and the rest of them nod, too.

“We’d love to stay until Liam’s recovered,” Louis confirms, and Sif nods heartily.

Zayn and Liam try to stand up, and Louis immediately springs forward to help them up, slipping an arm around Liam’s waist and squeezing to signify that he’s happy to have him back.

“I missed you, Liam,” he says brightly, and Liam gives him a frail upturn of his mouth.

They start to exit the room to try and get Liam to a bed where he can finally get some proper rest. Niall and Harry follow closely behind, both also welcoming Liam back warmly, rubbing his back and mumbling comforting words. Sif watches them fondly.

“You are very brave,” she says. “To travel like this, trying to make things right. It’s a very admirable deed.”

Louis’ heart swells with the pride from getting complimented by an Asgardian god, but Niall just purses his mouth.

“I don’t know if we’ve maybe just started taking for granted that we’ll be okay by now. We’ve had such incredible flow with what worlds we’ve gotten into so far I’m starting to think someone’s sending us places on purpose,” he mutters.

 

~

 

Since they’re now one person more in need of a bedroom, Niall insists that Liam takes his former bed and the cupid takes a new room. No one is surprised.  

Which, of course, still leave Harry and Louis with their huge single bed. Louis doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He’s currently lying horizontally on said bed, nervously stroking the sheets underneath him and watching Harry’s back move under the thin fabric of his shirt where he stands across the room, crouched over their backpack in search for something fit for sleeping in. He has quite a nice back, Louis notes. Truly very nice.

Harry suddenly stops in his tracks, though, shaking Louis out of his trance, and then starts laughing.

“What?” Louis sits up, peeking at Harry, intrigued at what pulled that reaction out.

Harry turns around and holds a bottle in the air. Louis hasn’t seen it before, and his forehead wrinkles.

“Niall’s funny,” Harry snickers.

“What’s that?”

There’s a playful twinkle in the spirit’s eyes.

“It’s lube.” 

“Oh.” Louis can feel his skin go hot and he just knows he’s all different kinds of red right now. He looks down on his hands as Harry puts the bottle back down in the bag again with a low chuckle.

“Niall can’t help himself, can he?” he muses. “I mean, his job is to get Liam and Zayn together. I think he’s kind of going beyond his assignments with this. ”

Louis clenches his jaw at Harry’s words, the spirit obviously still so unaware of the fact that Liam and Zayn aren’t at all the only ones Niall’s been waiting to help get together. Louis wishes he himself didn’t have to know, either. It’s terribly draining to be knowing all alone.

Not that he’s very keen on the idea of letting Harry in on the information, either. He knows that according to Niall it’s supposed to be mutual and he knows that based on Harry’s actions around Louis it probably is, too.

But there’s still that tiny, trembling part of him, sitting in the back of his head and whispers into his psyche about _rejection, rejection, he could reject you_. And because of that, he doesn’t say anything. Not yet, at least.

An even tinier, but infinitely more hopeful part of him doesn’t say anything because if Harry’s going to fall for him, Louis doesn’t want it to be because he knows Niall thinks they belong together.

If Harry’s going to like Louis, he’s going to like him because he just does.

“Yeah,” Louis says instead and forces out a quiet laugh, but it sounds a little nervous and out of place.

Harry clearly notices, giving Louis a raised eyebrow before sauntering over to the bed and dropping down next to Louis on his back. It’s quiet for a bit but Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him, trying to figure out what exactly has Louis so quiet and caught up in his own head all of a sudden.

“We… You know we don’t have to use it, right?” Harry starts lowly, and when Louis turns his head to look at him the spirit’s eyes are soft, hazy forests. So much like home.

“Hm?”

“The lube,” Harry clarifies. “I wasn’t—suggesting anything. I just thought it was funny. And just because Niall planted it there doesn’t mean you should feel obligated, or anything. If. If that’s what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh.” That’s not actually what Louis has been thinking about, but the reassuring and patience that Harry once again provides him with, not once acting like their massive gap in experience is a burden to him, has Louis’ stomach bright like a summer morning, anyway. (He wouldn’t mind, actually, he doesn’t think. Using the lube, that is. Not at all, really, if he thinks about it.) “Yeah, I know.”

Harry nods slowly, eyes narrowed just slightly and Louis pretends not to see it as he drags his knees up to his chest, running clammy hands over his bare calves.

“But, um,” he starts timidly, partly searching for a subject to break the silence, and partly because he can’t hold it in. “I’m glad you’re such good friends with Zayn now, though.”

He means it, he does. This is something he’s wanted for them since they met Zayn, and he is happy they’ve found such comfort in each other. It’s just. He’d quite like to keep being special and he has to fight really hard to not let any petty bitterness seep through when he utters the words.

Harry intertwines his hands behind his head and crosses his legs.

“Me, too,” he speaks around a smile. “It’s actually—it’s nice. I’ve never actually had a genuine friend like that, I think? He just. He gets it.”

The sentiment is lovely, but Louis can’t help the ugly, pointed ice tips of hurt jabbing at his heart at the confession.

“You have me,” he can’t stop himself from voicing, very quietly. He doesn’t dare look at the spirit, because he doesn’t have control over his facial features right now and if Harry actually sees him he’ll get to see how bothered Louis actually is by the revelation.

“Yeah I _know_ , I just,” Harry pauses and Louis closes his eyes, hoping to god what he says next won’t sting as much as he anticipates it to. “It’s… You’re different. It’s like. I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Louis questions, knows he should let it go, knows he should stop this now and go back to acting like he doesn’t care at all, but he can’t find it within himself to. Not after this emotional mess of a day. He’s too exhausted to put on some kind of indifferent show.

“Well, I—I haven’t gotten Zayn off in a changing room, for one.”

“So it’s the sex,” Louis states.

“No, no, it’s not just that, you _know_ that’s not what I mean at all. Why are you even so—?”

And then Harry cuts himself off abruptly and the room goes quiet for quite a while. Louis gets both uncomfortable and puzzled because he’s lowkey dying for an argument to let off some steam, and at last he must turn his head to look at Harry and see what made him stop.

When he meets the spirit’s gaze, Harry’s already watching him with a growing smirk on his lips. He slowly raises an eyebrow.

“You’re _jealous_ ,” he states, and it’s with the exact same sort of convinced, smug delight as he had that time they first met. _I_ know _you_.

Louis flushes.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“You totally are jealous, though,” Harry insists, smirk progressively sliding into a grin, and he props himself up on his elbows. “I can’t believe you’re jealous.”

“ _I’m not jealous_.”

Harry chuckles and shuffles closer.

“You’re jealous of Zayn.”

“Objectively, who isn’t of that face, but it has nothing to do with _you_.”

“It has everything to do with me. That’s why you’re blushing so hard right now.”

“I’m not blushing!” Louis exclaims, throwing Harry a pointed glare, and it doesn’t affect the spirit at all. His expression continues to be amused, cocky and—fond, almost, and his tongue darts out to wet his upper lip, leaning in closer. It doesn’t make Louis shift to shake off the hotness pooling in the pit of his stomach. Not at all.

“I’m flattered, Lou, I really am, but you should also know it’s unnecessary.”

His breath is hot on Louis ear and Louis shudders, closing his eyes and shaking his head in small, swift motions. The nickname and the smile in Harry’s deep voice is a little too much for him, and he’s painfully aware of how his pants has grown just a bit tighter in the crotch area.

God. When exactly his ability to control himself worsened this much, he doesn’t know. 

Harry lets out another warm chuckle, and then he plants a small kiss on Louis’ cheekbone, before leaning back again.

“You’re cute,” he grins, lying down in the same position as he had before, looking infinitely pleased with himself.

Louis skin is burning now, tickling where Harry’s soft lips had just been, endlessly gentle and barely grazing before they’re gone again, and though the gesture was so sweet it makes Louis quiver, his reaction to it isn’t entirely as pure.

Louis may have not been in the mood for this yesterday, but now his yearning to have those lips back on his mouth and his skin and between his teeth is overwhelming.

Barely realizing himself what he’s doing, he turns around swiftly, swinging a leg over Harry’s waist to straddle him and pushing his hands down on Harry’s shoulders to support himself. Harry’s tongue-in-cheek smile drops right off his face, his lips parting and his eyes darkening and once again, Louis really does appreciate how easily he keeps up. They just breathe for a second, Louis trying to figure out for a panicked moment where to go from here. It’s not like he does this often.

It’s first when Harry’s slack jaw slowly recovers, corners of his mouth pulling back into an awed sneer that Louis remembers why he’s doing this, thinks of I _know_ you, thinks of you’re _jealous_. Harry infuriates him to no end. Harry doesn’t get to know shit like this.

“I’m _not_ jealous,” he all but growls, before leaning down and locking their lips.

Harry responds immediately, sighing into Louis’ mouth and letting his hands travel down Louis torso to settle on his hips, pulling him down harder. Louis almost trembles from how much he craves this, and he reaches to hold onto Harry’s hair, tugging at the curls and earning a beautiful groan from Harry, vibrating all the way into his bones.

He needs to be close, needs to feel Harry’s hair and his skin burn under his fingertips and he needs Harry’s lips pulling moans from his mouth, needs to kiss him until he can’t breathe anymore.

So when Harry finally rolls his hips up to meet the growing bulge in Louis jeans, Louis eyes almost roll all the way back into his head.

“This is a really nice bed,” he manages to breathe out between kisses, echoing Harry’s words from the day before. “Should we take advantage of it?”

Harry huffs out a shaky laugh and catches Louis’ lower lip between his teeth.

“Would be a shame otherwise,” he smirks, reaching down to palm Louis through his jeans.

The pressure has Louis hissing and he can’t stop himself from grinding up searching for more friction. He should maybe be embarrassed, for being this needy this quickly, but Harry just looks at him like Louis hung the stars so he can’t really bring himself to.

“What do you want?” Harry asks against Louis’ parted lips.

Louis finds himself at loss at first, because he wants everything. He wants Harry to keep thrusting his hips forward, he wants Harry’s hands on him, he—kind of wants to put that lube to use.

But most of all, in that moment, a tinge of bitterness and craving for validation still hanging over him, he wants to make Harry feel good. He still remembers the blinding satisfaction and pride from making moans slip from that plush mouth, and he’s kind of been longing to do that again ever since. Especially now, he wants—he _needs_ —to be Harry’s favorite, to make him writhe and groan, and most of all—praise Louis.

“I want.” He hesitates first, tasting the unfamiliar words on his tongue. “I want to suck you off.”

He certainly does not for a second miss the way Harry’s breath hitches, the “ _shit_ ” that tumbles out under his breath.

“You sure? I don’t want you to feel like—”

“I’m sure,” Louis interrupts firmly.

They look at each other for a long time, Harry evidently searching for some kind of sign of pressure or reluctance in Louis’ face. He doesn’t find anything, presumably because Louis is feeling neither pressured nor reluctant, and at last he just nods, eyelids fluttering.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Fuck.”

The corners of Louis’ mouth twitch at the approval and he reaches to unzip Harry’s jeans, pushing them down all the way to ankles where Harry proceeds to kick them off, and the fairy hovers over the bulge in Harry’s boxers for a moment before pulling them down, too.

Harry shudders a little when his erection is finally released, hard and leaking against his stomach, and Louis wets his lips.

“Just. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” he utters lowly. It’s not like he’s suddenly forgotten about the fact that he’s literally never done this before, neither has anyone done this to him, while Harry is most likely more than experienced. It does make Louis’ stomach shift a little, but it also really makes him want to do it well. He needs to be the fucking best at things, even if he’s never taken them on before.

It can’t be that hard. Just try to do what you’d want in his position.

So with those words, he leans down and grabs the base of Harry’s cock, giving it a couple of pumps that has Harry’s breathing slightly more erratic, before taking the tip into his mouth and letting his tongue lick around it.

Harry immediately slips his hands down to tangle in Louis’ hair, and it spurs Louis on even more. He pops off for a moment to lick a wet strip along the underside and definitely notes how Harry’s grip tightens, and then starts going further down on him again, careful to not let any teeth graze Harry’s dick has he works on bobbing his head up and down until he finds a steady rhythm. When he hollows his cheeks to suck even more fervently, Harry lets out a groan and it’s evident he’s keeping himself from bucking up into Louis’ mouth.

“So good,” he hums and loosens one of his hands from Louis’ locks to softly stroke his fingers along Louis’ defined cheekbone. “Doing so well.”

Louis’ chest swells with satisfaction at that, and with sparklers around his heart and fireworks shooting through his veins he relaxes his throat, determined to be even better.

He sinks further and further down, careful and slow to prohibit himself from choking. Harry’s big, and he doesn’t make it all the way to the base but a good way there and when he swallows around Harry’s pulsating cock the spirit gives out the most delicious moan Louis’ ever heard in his life, causing his head fade into a blissful blur as he keeps going, swirling and massaging and caressing with his tongue to lure out more sounds and reactions from Harry.

“Look at me,” Harry demands tenderly, letting his fingers wander to Louis’ fringe to brush it out of his face. It’s such a sweet gesture, so delicate and careful and Louis thinks that in this moment, in this moment he would do anything Harry asked him to.

He does raise his gaze to find Harry already watching him, eyes glossy and lips bitten blood red. It’s such a lovely look on him, and Louis doesn’t break their eye contact as he continues to go up and down, stopping to lick the sensitive spot right under the head, and Harry lets out a string of cuss words that makes Louis so close to bursting with light and heat. He feels like he should be visibly glowing right now, sunshine saturating his entire being with every heavy breath Harry takes.

Louis can see when Harry’s starting to get close, because his eyelids start fluttering more rapidly and his stomach tenses up to suppress thrusts.

“Close,” he breathes, confirming Louis’ suspicions, and Louis take his mouth off of him, instead concentrating on speeding up his hand motions, twisting around the base the way he learned last time they’d done this.

With a final groan, Harry comes over Louis’ hand. A little squirts up and lands across the corner of Louis’ mouth and he sticks his tongue out to taste it. It’s salty and bitter and apparently really doing it for Harry, because the spirit lets out a ‘ _fucking hell_ ’ and pulls Louis up to kiss him, a hand on each side of Louis’ face and Louis thinks it feels like what moonrise looks like.

Louis himself is still painfully hard in his own pants, almost desperate for release, which is why he nearly hisses when Harry lowers his hands to undo Louis’ pants and tug them down.

“Want to try something,” Harry mumbles into Louis mouth, fiddling with the hem of Louis’ boxer briefs suggestively. “Do you trust me?”

Louis’ eyes flutter open, and Harry’s deep green eyes are so close, so gentle, so fond, so lustful, and Louis trusts him with his life. He just breathes out a “yes” onto Harry’s raspberry lips, and he can feel them stretch momentarily before Harry pulls away.

“On your knees,” he asks lowly. “Face into the pillow. Can you do that?”

Louis swallows, the roughness in Harry’s voice as he speaks going straight to his dick. He just nods, well aware that if he’ll try talking now he’ll surely not get more than a whimper out, anyway.

The pillow is soft and soothing against his face as he lays it down. He’s quite happy Harry can’t really see his face like this, because he’s definitely sporting a deep blush at the position. He feels very exposed, endlessly vulnerable in a way he can’t ever see himself getting used to.

It’s not in a bad way, though. He knows he’s safe. He trusts Harry.

Harry slowly pulls Louis’ jeans and boxers completely off of him, putting them in a neat pile at the foot of the bed, before focusing all his attention back on Louis.

Louis can hear him shift, coming closer, and the curly haired boy groans at the sight in front of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, roaming his hands over Louis’ ass, and Louis buries his face even more into the pillow to try and cool down the heat burning from his neck to his ears and onto his cheeks.

Then Harry licks a stripe from Louis’ perineum to his rim, and Louis inhales sharply, a jolt going through his entire body.

“Fuck,” he splutters, trying to regain control over himself through the hazy, pastel cloud of pleasure seeping into his thoughts.

“You okay?” Harry asks, still very sincerely but Louis can practically hear the smug smile taking over his face.

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Yeah. Fantastic.”

So Harry spreads Louis’ cheeks and does it again, starts swirling his tongue up and down and around the rim, and Louis’ toes are curling from the sensation. He has to bite down hard on his lower lip to stop any embarrassing moans from slipping out, only letting small whimpers fall from his tongue and into the silk fabric of his pillow.

Harry seems to notice his efforts though, and stops for a second. Louis almost whines with disapproval when the tingling pressure stops.

“Don’t hold back,” Harry murmurs. “Want to hear you.”

So Louis doesn’t hold back.

Harry dives right back in, starting to thrust his tongue in and out of Louis’ sensitive hole, alternating between that and rubbing circles around Louis’ rim in a way that makes Louis positively delirious, and the smaller boy lets out particularly high pitched moan. His voice cracks halfway through and he can’t even care, too caught up in the stimulation and the way his cock practically aches between his legs now, leaking onto the sheets, and even though Harry hasn’t even touched him yet Louis knows his climax isn’t far away by now.

“Harry,” he sobs into the pillow, trying to grind down to get some kind of friction. “Harry, please…”

“You close, baby?”

Harry’s voice is hoarse and so very deep, like velvet and lavender and moonlight, and Louis trembles just from the sound of it. He nods fervently.

“Please,” he just repeats, like he’s forgotten all other words except that one.

Harry gets the message, and reaches an arm around to grab Louis’ dick, and Louis feels his eyes go wet as Harry starts moving his hand up and down, stroking him all the way from the base and rounding off at the tip and it doesn’t take long at all until the pit of Louis’ stomach ties up.

Whimpering brokenly, Louis thrusts faintly into Harry’s hand as he finally comes all over his stomach and the white sheets under him, jaw going completely slack. He collapses into the mattress not long after, breath strained and eyes closed, only aware of the exhaustion and Harry’s soft hands caressing his hips, his sides, his chest, making their way to his face, and Harry’s hushed voice telling him how good he was, how beautiful, _always so pretty, so good for me_.

The kind of words Louis saves and storages safely in the deepest creases of his mind, only picking out and marvelling over on the most special occasions when he’s sure no one else notices.

Soon enough Harry’s lying next to him, pulling Louis’ pliant body onto his own and bringing his arms up to gently stroke Louis’ back. His fingerprints burn into Louis’ skin in the gentlest way.

“What… _was_ that?” Louis breathes out, still overwhelmed and warm all the way out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“That, dear Louis, is called rimming.”

“It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Harry smiles into Louis’ hair and plants a light kiss to the top of his head, and it makes Louis’ eyes flutter and his heart skip a beat. They’re quiet for a moment, recovering, settling, breathing in tune with each other.

“Harry Styles, the infamous and mighty, the callous and cruel,” Louis mumbles into his chest after a while. “A cuddler.”

“Who, me?” Louis can hear the grin in his voice as firm arms tighten around him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Louis hums and nods nonchalantly.

“I’m going to rat you out to everyone. Ruin your reputation forever.”

“You’re going to take this to the grave.” 

“You can’t stop me.”

“Fine. I’m sure Zayn’s up for cuddles instead, if I asked.”

Louis wishes nothing more than to stay unaffected, but he tangles his legs together with Harry’s in a resolute way. “You’re stupid and I hate you.”

“If that was your way of convincing me to _not_ leave, I think your persuasive skills might need some polishing.”

“You’re still here, so evidently not.” Louis sighs around a smile, closing his eyes when he feels Harry’s ribcage vibrate from silent laughter.

“Evidently not,” is all he says back. Louis’ stomach is light and his veins are unfrozen.

Silence settles again after that, but it’s a tranquil and comfortable one. Louis thinks about how nice it would be, if he could stop time right here and now, perched on Harry’s warm and solid chest in the biggest and most comfortable bed he’s ever been in, breathing in the earthy scent of Harry’s skin. He wishes he could savour it forever, let it etch into his heart and mind and lungs and bones. He doesn’t ever want to leave.

Maybe he’s being overly emotional, but he also just had the best orgasm of his life _and_ he’s come to terms with really liking Harry, so. It’s a lot. Let him live.

“Lou?”

Harry’s voice is tentative when it suddenly breaks their quiet state.

“Mhm?”

“Do you like your job?”

Louis raises an eyebrow. The question is definitely coming out of nowhere, but he guesses he’s not exactly opposed to answer it, either.

“In the forest? Yeah,” he nods, smiling. “I love it.”

Harry nods, too, bringing a hand up to absent-mindedly play with Louis’ hair.

“Tell me about it?”

“Well. What do you want to know?”

“Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

So Louis does.

He tells Harry about being a summer assigned fairy in the Forest, where the birds always sing and the grass is always the liveliest of green. He tells him about early sunrise tinting the morning dew a vibrant gold and violet dusk putting the sounds of daylight to sleep. He tells Harry about the melancholy of turning Grimm’s forests into autumn colors, burning extra bright before the winter assigned fairies take care of their work. He tells him about his favorite part of the year, spring, about how snow melting away to make room for pastel colors and midnight suns, somehow makes his soul feel reborn, too.

He tells Harry about his mother, and his friends, and about that one time he made a troll cry because it had the audacity to underestimate him. He tells him about wanting to attend UoT from the moment he heard of it.

Not once does Harry make any attempts at implying that Louis’ job or life is lame or inferior, like he’s done in the past to strike a nerve. Not once does he interrupt Louis’ rambling, only interposing with encouragements whenever it fits. Not once does he ask Louis to stop talking.

So Louis lies there, on top of Harry for the rest of the night, talking in a hushed tone until Harry’s breath starts turning soft and even and heavy. He traces the black marks on the spirit’s arms with his fingers like they’re all intertwined tracks and crooked paths leading him somewhere safe, and tentatively allows himself to feel happy.  

There’s still something stuffy in his throat at the thought of not having this forever. But he also figures that right now, Harry is asleep under him with soft features and an arm draped over Louis’ back, and having him in this moment is enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love writing smut especially because i seem to be literally incapable of doin it without squishing a bunch of feelings in there.
> 
> anyways i worked really hard to get this done for today as i'm going away for a couple of days and won't be able to write. and i hope this update is okay. i personally rly enjoyed writing it and i hope u enjoy reading it too :') 
> 
> as always, kudos and comments make my soul feel alive and well there's nothing i love more than hearing ur thoughts and to appreciate u in return i love u all so much :'(((((( u can also of course always come n talk to me on tumblr @tequiladimples i will 100% consider u the dearest of friends from the get go xxxxxxxx thank u for reading !!


	23. chapter 21; the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
> 
> (Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

It takes Liam three days to get better. The boys don’t really mind staying.

It’s quite nice, to be honest. It’s a happy time to be there, Thor and Sif young and alive and healthy and beautiful and always so, so very grateful—soon joined by the other gods too, even Loki after a while (though things are slightly stiff between him and Harry and Zayn). They all throw a big celebration the second night, inviting all of the now recovered gods and goddesses, and Louis has positively never been more starstruck than he is during that dinner. His self-esteem has probably never skyrocketed more than it does right then, either—because that’s what being heartfeltly thanked by god after important god will do to you.

Louis also ends up spending a lot of time with Harry—it just kind of happens that way with them sharing rooms and everything. They talk about everything and nothing until the early hours of the morning, they shower together—an amazing concept that Louis is not opposed to at all—and they go exploring the castle and end up getting horribly lost. Which, of course, is Louis’ idea, and also something Harry will not stop pestering him about for the remainder of their stay.

It’s overall both the most amazing thing ever because Louis is constantly overwhelmed by how well they actually fit together after spending so much time thinking they would never be able to agree on even the smallest of things, and it’s also the worst thing ever because. Well. Louis kind of constantly wants to scream out how gone he is for this boy, and he can’t. He’s never been one to keep any sort of feelings to himself, and it’s extremely draining to do it now, especially with how strong they are.

In general, they all have a great time, and it’s with slight dejection and some urging on from Thor, they finally leave on that third day to spread their newfound information about the portals along.

When the boys finally have their stuff packed and are entering Thor and Sif’s portal, Louis sighs wistfully, because he thinks this has most definitely been the high point of this adventure and he’s pretty sure it won’t really get better than these three past days have been.

 

~

 

As it turns out, Louis is wrong. And he’s... Never been happier to admit so in his life.

He feels it in the air before he even opens his eyes. There’s only one place he knows where the air is this crisp and the scent of nature this sweet.

He puts his hands down in the grass, feeling flowers break through the earth and blossom in the spaces between his fingers, and a massive, bright smile is making its way onto his face as he flutters his eyes open. Leaves from the big oak tree where his mother used to tell him stories every sunset are rustling quietly above his head, and it sounds like a “welcome back”.

The meadow is sparkling and bubbling with life and colors, the sun is in their eyes, the sky is the brightest of blues, and Louis?

Louis is home.

He knows this place better than he knows anything else and he feels like crying from pure joy, the weight of traveling and risking his life and being away from everything he’s known so far finally making itself known. He hasn’t even realized how heavy that weight has been until it’s now lifted from him, ascending somewhere else, leaving Louis so light and feather-like he feels like he could just catch the sun in his palm.

“Is this…” Liam starts somewhere next to him. “Is this the Forest?”

Louis is pretty sure a genuine tear actually slips through.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Yeah, it is. I’m home.”

A laugh slips out of him, and he turns to look at the other boys, checking if any of them are also feeling the immense euphoria he’s feeling.

They don’t really seem to. Niall just looks relieved, Zayn is still spaced out, glove clad hand clutching Liam’s really tight—evidently not quite used to the whole portal travelling thing yet—Liam just looks kind of awed, and Harry—well. Harry is looking at Louis with a small smile. So small you barely notice it if it weren’t for the slight deepening of his dimples and even smaller glint in his eyes, but by now Louis feels like he can tell exactly what signifies Harry’s happiness. And it’s there.

“You’re home,” the spirit confirms.

“I’m _home_.” Unable to keep the ecstasy down any longer, Louis springs up from his spot. He reaches out to feel the rough oak bark under his hands, pulling at its lowest hanging branches, skipping along to circle the whole meadow just to really get a _feel_ of it, and also ends up spinning Harry around a couple of times just for the hell of it, before stopping to just digest the situation for a moment.

(Harry doesn’t really come off as the type to appreciate being spun around in a thrill of happiness, but he lets it happen and Louis is happy he’s letting him have this.)

I—fuck, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he exclaims, shoulders shaking with disbelieving laughter.  

He is not even being dramatic. Not even s’mores or orgasms can measure with the comforting feeling of coming home after being shoved from one dangerous place to the other for so long.

“Yeah. We can tell,” Harry states with an eyebrow raise and a meaning look behind Louis.

Louis follows the spirit’s gaze and realizes that proud, shining yellow sunflowers have bloomed up around his feet and back in a trail where he’s been stepping, and he bites his lip loosely.

“Ah. Well, yeah. That tends to happen,” he shrugs.

He realizes he hasn’t really been able to showcase his powers properly until now. Mostly they’ve been in places that don’t have any connections to Grimm, Wonderland was too confusing and in Asgard he spent most of his time inside a castle made of stone and, well, it’s not like the plants inside Thor and Sif’s home aren’t already magical.

It’s a bit unfair, really, because Harry’s or Niall’s powers function in more places than Louis’ do. But Louis has his _now_ , and that’s what matters, so he figures he’s fine.

“You just. Bloom sometimes?” Harry clarifies, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’m a _nature fairy_. Does that seem like a weird thing for me to do to you?”

“I guess not,” Harry allows and shakes his head. “It’s cute, though.”

Louis struggles greatly with keeping down a blush, and looks away defiantly. He could choose to take offense to the term, but Harry doesn’t seem to mean it offensively, his deep voice a tad too soft and sincere.

“Yeah, well,” Louis instead says and dusts off some grass from his pants. “I’m known to be gorgeous.”

And that’s all he says before taking off.

He doesn’t wait around to see if the rest are making any attempts at following him, but just flies away into the forest, wings fluttering swiftly with excitement. They others are just going to have to catch up. Louis isn’t usually the patient type, but he’s especially not very keen on waiting when he’s just arrived _here_.

The other boys do catch up with him, luckily, and when they do Harry grabs Louis’ hand and yanks him to the ground, forcing the smaller boy to slow down.

Which. What the _fuck_. He’s not allowed to do that. Under no circumstances should Harry Styles ever feel like he has the audacity.

Louis yells a series of profanities revealing just how rude he thinks Harry is, which Harry just rolls his eyes at.

“Lou, slowing down a little isn’t going to kill you.”

Louis inhales sharply.

“I am _so_ sorry for being excited, Harry, I promise I’ll never be happy in your immediate vicinity ever again.”

“I’m fucking—“ Harry looks up to the sky momentarily, as if to gather strength for this conversation. “You’re such a _brat_. I’m just asking you to wait for us.”

“ _Ah_ , no, you’re not. You’re _forcing_ me to.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re holding my hand.”

“Didn’t realize hand holding was your kryptonite.”

Louis does not have time to deal with Harry’s sassery right now.

“Shut up and let me go.”

“Let go yourself.”

“Don’t _fucking_ tell me what to do.”

“…Well. I’m not letting go, anyway.”

“I’m not either.”

“Looks like we’re stuck here, then.”

“Yeah,” Louis just gives Harry a defiant glare. “Looks like it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Zayn mutters behind them.

So they keep walking, hands determinedly laced together and this is positively the most bizarre fight Louis’ ever had with someone. He’s not going to budge, though, he has no problem at all with hand holding, could get used to it any day any time, if Harry’s not going to let go then Louis isn’t going to stop him. Harry’s so fucking exasperating. Louis hates him and wants to hold his hand until the end of time.

“Where are we even going?” Harry mutters at last to break the tense silence, looking around and Louis can imagine him feeling a little out of place here with his black spirit marks and his dark powers. Like this place is supposed to be too bright and lively for someone like him.

Louis doesn’t really think he looks out of place, though. His curls are soft and his free hand is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and Louis decides in that very moment that he’s going to make Harry feel like he belongs here. That he’s worth a life in a place where the sun always shines and magic is beautiful.

(Harry’s still insufferable, though.)

(Stupid. Harry is stupid.)

(Louis’ emotions might not be entirely intact.)

“We’re going to find my mother,” he answers lightly, only trying a little to stifle his enthusiasm.

Harry doesn’t seem to share it, as he chokes on his own breath and aims a wide-eyed stare at Louis.

“I can’t meet your mother,” he protests.

“Yeah, you can,” Louis cuts off before Harry has time to elaborate his argument. “She’s lovely and she can help and I’ve missed her.”

Harry doesn’t argue back but Louis knows he still isn’t all too comfortable with the concept.

And yeah, maybe it does make Louis a little jittery as well that Harry’s meeting his mother. It’s not like it’s a _dating_ thing, a boyfriend meeting parents thing. Because that’s one hundred percent not what Harry and Louis are. But still… Louis just really wants his mother to like Harry. He wants her to, well. To see what he sees. Even though Harry’s sarcastic and self-important and stubborn.  

Harry has been met with too much hostility from outsiders throughout his life, Louis decides. And now that he’s made it his unofficial mission to make Harry feel welcome here, a cold attitude from the inhabitants isn’t exactly a great way to start that off.

“Good day, Mrs. Louis’ mom,” Harry mutters. “I’m the underworld spirit who’s been boning your son.”

Louis makes a distressed sound borderline screech and elbows the spirit’s side. He checks behind him to see if the other boys heard anything, but it seems not because Liam and Zayn are too caught up in walking shyly next to each other and Niall is too focused on Liam and Zayn.

“Come _on_ ,” he scolds. “You’re not going to say that. We both know you can make excellent first impressions if you want to, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s just. It feels weird. It’s your mom.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “It’s my mom. Who loves me and trusts me.”

Harry doesn’t answer, just looks down on his feet and keeps walking, and Louis worries he might’ve struck a nerve with that.

“Hey,” he says, milder now. “It’s going to be fine. Really.”

It works a little, Harry looking up at him with a small smile, but he still looks hesitant and his posture is still hunched, and Louis is still not used to seeing Harry with his guard this far down, seeing him this visibly insecure.

Louis _is_ going to make this a place where Harry feels safe. He just is.

 

~

 

He finds his mother where he knows she would be—by the stream, just where it debouches into a crystal-clear lake holding the life of thousands of fish and underwater creatures and plants. It’s currently empty, everyone else most probably off to work or to eat.

But Louis knows his mother, and he knows that this time of day, she usually sits right here and contemplates and ponders. Louis liked to join her sometimes when he was younger, because even though his own mind was always all over the place and he found the silence hard to deal with, he always looked up to his mom. And she always said that to a sensible mind, moments of silence are crucial.

And Louis, of course, considered and considers himself a sensible mind. Somewhat fiery, but sensible nonetheless. So he would sit by her side, quietly, and watch the water striders slide across the calm surface of the lake, practicing his ability to endure silence.

He’s not silent today, though. As soon as he sees her, he feels an electric shock move throughout his entire body and he can’t even contain himself from crying out a “mother!” and flying all the way up to her in about half a second.

His mother turns with the speed of light at the very first audible syllable of Louis’ voice, eyes widened and arms open.

Louis crashes into her and locks both his arms so tightly around her his muscles are straining. She reciprocates the hug with every bit as much fervor, and Louis could honestly cry, sob, _wheeze_ at how happy he is to be back.

“Louis, _love_ ,” his mom exclaims, pulling away to look at him and stroking his fringe away from his face. “How did you get here?”

Louis gives out a wet laugh.

“It’s kind of a long story, mother, and I will tell it all to you eventually, I swear. Given that you won’t scold me for it.”

“I cannot promise anything,” his mother replies seriously, but her eyes are beaming so Louis keeps grinning, too.

She then slowly takes her gaze off of her son to look behind him, tilting her head with a curious raise of the eyebrows. Louis looks back at his friends, too, and his back straightens as he opens his mouth to proudly introduce them all to her.

(It’s quite funny, that. How attached he’s grown to the four boys within this short time span. Louis feels like maybe they’re meant to be friends, with how nicely they all fit with each other. Fit so well to the point where Louis is almost bursting with pride and exhilaration from finally having his mother see them.)

His mom is the one who speaks first, though, inquiring Louis to tell her what he’s already going to say.

“Who are your three friends?”

Louis is on his way to explain, but he stops abruptly as the number leaves his mother’s lips.

 _Three_ friends?

She doesn’t look at Harry, Louis notices then, just gives Niall, Liam and Zayn a gentle smile each. Louis frowns, the blinding euphoria missing a beat. Is she… Deliberately ignoring Harry? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“These are Niall, Liam, Zayn and _Harry_ ,” he introduces them, careful to give her an emphasizing look as he speaks Harry’s name. “That’s four people.”

“Of course,” his mother agrees, “there are. I asked about your _friends_ , is all, and I just assumed you wouldn’t be friendly with an Underworld spirit.”

Her voice is rigidly nonchalant in a way Louis has always admired. His mother is kind and giving and one of the most caring people he knows, but she has a passive aggressive way of shutting people down that can shake you to the core.

Louis whips his head around for the shortest of moments just to get a glimpse of how Harry’s whole figure slumps immediately, and something boiling and blood red is suddenly building up in the pit of his stomach.

“Harry,” he says slowly with dripping significance, “has offered his life and proven his loyalty numerous times during this trip and is _very_ much deserving of your recognition, mother.”

Seconds tick by as Louis and his mother only engage in the most intense eye contact, Louis determined to barely even blink until he’s gotten his point across. What makes it a bit more of a challenge is that he has after all inherited all his stubbornness from his mom, and it shows.

“I do not want to have a conversation like this one in front of other people,” Louis utters again when both has yet to budge. “So I suggest that you trust my opinion and judgment, like you always have up until this point, and make my _friend_ Harry Styles feel just as welcome as you would anyone else. Please.”

It’s not like Louis to do this, Louis knows. He usually doesn’t so ardently defy his mom like this, usually agrees with her, usually trusts her to know better than himself. She’s always been the person he looks up to the most, throughout all his life. And he knows his mom knows that, too. Which is most likely why there’s a clear flash of bewilderment in her stare now. Louis must feel strongly about this if he’s prepared to confront her like this.

Another four, five, six seconds of quiet, before his mother finally nods, taking a breath and averting her gaze.

“Forgive me,” she says, giving Harry a polite smile. “Perhaps I am too quick to judge. I don’t have too much experience with the underworld inhabitants.”

Louis nods, pleased with himself, and looks to Harry again, and the spirit looks so dazed, eyes glossy and lips parted as he shakes his head in small, swift motions. As if he can’t believe he’s just been defended.

“It’s okay,” he rasps out. “I didn’t take offense.”

He even manages to push out a tentative smile, and he looks like he could never ever hurt even the tiniest of flies.

To Louis’ relief, his mom reciprocates it kindly.

“Louis,” she then says. “You are to show these lovely men to the bungalows. Make sure they all have places to sleep. And possibly unwind, as I can imagine your journey has been long and draining for you.”

Louis releases a breath he didn’t even realize he’s been holding, and he mouth a soundless ‘thank you’ to her.

“Of course,” he then says out loud, turning with a wide grin. “Let’s go, boys.”

 

~

 

The forest has a lot of beautiful places, open meadows and gloomy thickets, glowing rivers and rocky mountain tops. But Louis must say, one of his absolute favorite places is the bungalows.

It’s not only the fact that it’s beautiful—because it is. It’s right in a meadow surrounded by the tallest of birches, and when the sun rises and sets the branches always cast the most beautiful shadows across the area, intertwining and falling into each other like a spider web or a delicate maze dancing across honeysuckle-clad cottages and jasmine bushes. It’s colourful, lively, and because it has more different kinds of flowers in one place than any other part of the forest, it’s got a lovely scent that always makes Louis feel safe.

But, as aforementioned. This isn’t the only reason as to why Louis loves the places so much.

It’s the creatures living there. This is an enchanted forest, so naturally everything is always alive, but this place—this place is living and breathing and singing and dancing and laughing and running. It’s where all the fairies live, in blissful harmony and the atmosphere is always so filled with love and music and warmth. Louis thanks the universes every day for having the privilege to grow up in an environment like this.

“Isn’t it amazing?” he sighs blissfully, looking to his friends for confirmation of the obvious.

None of them has time to answer, though, because that’s the moment that the other fairies currently residing around the bungalows notice that Louis is there, which results in an entire choir of cries and shocked shrieks.

“ _Louis_!” exclaims in a high pitched tone as she attacks Louis with a bone crushing hug, and Louis instantly reciprocates it, locking his arms around her steadily.

“Lottie,” he nearly sobs out into her neck, and it doesn’t take long until he’s surrounded by warm, trembling embraces from the rest of his siblings too, and he feels like his heart is going to shoot out of his chest with how much he’s missed them.

“What are you doing home?” His second oldest, Fizzy, asks as soon as they’ve all pulled away just slightly to be able to breathe.

“Long story,” Louis repeats, too overwhelmed to get into the entire plot. There are more important things at hand right now. Like finally being around and talking to and hugging his sisters and his brother.

“So much has happened while you’ve been gone,” Fizzy gushes, still clinging to his left arm. “Doris and Ernest learned to fly without dwindling! Isn’t that amazing?”

“That _is_ amazing,” Louis glows and bends down to pick the twins up, supporting them on each of his hips. “You’re growing so fast!”

The twins give out gleeful gurgles as they start talking in unison about every little thing that Louis has missed in his absence, and though it’s impossible to keep up with them talking over each other and still not quite mastering the ability of articulation, Louis tries his very best. It’s going quite well, until his gaze catches on Harry on the way from Doris to Ernest, and he’s met with a pair of eyes looking at him like he’s made of stars, and with a smile softer than clouds in June.

Harry’s watching him like he can’t really believe that Louis is real and there and he’s watching like he thinks Louis is fantastic, and Louis can feel his ears burning all the way to their tips. He curses having such pointy, long ears, knows they’re a dead giveaway every time he blushes, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, so Louis tries to ignore it, too.

He focuses his attention back on the twins, fighting through the peach colored giddiness that Harry’s attention is filling him with, and smiles crookedly.

“I kind of have to leave for a bit, my loves,” he starts calmly. “But I would _love_ to hear about all of this over dinner tonight. Okay?”

The twins don’t seem too keen on that idea, and neither do his other sisters, as they immediately start crowding tighter around him again, asking with worried eyes, “you’re not—leaving again, are you?” and Louis laughs warmly and ruffles Phoebe’s hair.

“Of course not. I’ve just got to show these lads to their bungalow, alright? And show them around this place.” He flashes them all an excited grin. “But we’ll be joining for dinner tonight, me and the boys.” He gestures towards the boys behind him. “I promise.”

“Oh, yeah. Who are they?” Lottie looks at them with big, curious eyes.

“They’re my friends and they’ve come from very far away.”

“Oh.” She contemplates this for a few seconds and then she smiles widely at the four boys. “I hope you enjoy your stay!”

Well. That’s certainly more pleasant than it was with his mother.

With a last hug for them each, Louis leaves his siblings to show the boys to their collective sleeping space. He leads them to the biggest bungalow of them all, the exterior garnished with white climbing rose, and he lets the welcoming scent embrace them as he steps inside to fully reveal the large space. There are several beds in there, only a couple of them already taken as it’s in the middle of the day and most forest creatures are already up before sunrise.

“So this bungalow,” Louis starts, “is the open bungalow. People just kind of come and go here. It’s where lots of creatures from the other side of the forest here on special work and stuff crash, so just grab a bed whenever you feel like using one and it’s yours until you leave it, yeah?”

“Great,” Niall says and slumps right down on one bed. “I’m feeling a nap.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, but he’s not complaining. It’s nice that the cupid is comfortable.

He purses his mouth to the side and looks back between the three boys who are still standing.

“So you guys just settle down. I’m going to go and take our bags into my bungalow,” he says. “Lots of nosy people in here, can’t tell you how many things I’ve lost throughout the years.”

He hauls the backpacks over his shoulders and turns to departure.

“I’ll go with you,” Harry says quickly. “I’m not really that tired.”

Louis tries to not show any external signs of how much his heart flutters at Harry choosing to go with him. Like there’s some kind of underlying motive to it other than Harry just simply not being tired. Because there obviously isn’t. Right. That’d be stupid.

“Yeah, okay,” he states lightly, and so they walk away together in silence, hands comfortably brushing against each other’s every now and then. The physical contact still makes Louis’ skin tickle.

The bungalow Louis’ got to call his own is quite small, but colourful, and he especially likes it because it’s pretty much like nature’s followed him inside. There are tons of plants and flowers in all corners and on all shelves and on his old, wooden nightstand, and it’s just how he likes it.

He puts the bags down at the foot of his bed and sits down on it, turning to watch Harry. The spirit is slowly letting his gaze meander around the space, from the braided daisy garlands decorating the walls, to the carved, squiggly patterns on the bed headboard, to the small piano squeezed into the corner right opposite the door.

“It’s lovely,” he hums. “Very you.”

“I would hope so, since it’s my room,” Louis quips back, and Harry rolls his eyes faintly.

He moves over to the piano, lets his fingers slowly travel along the ivory keys, barely grazing them with his fingertips.

“You play?” he asks with a surprised upturn of his mouth sent Louis’ way.

Louis just nods. “Sometimes. I like the way the way it feels against my fingers.”

Harry nods, too, like this is valid and noteworthy information to him, and pushes down on a G tryingly.

“I always wish I could. Will you play for me sometime?”

If Harry doesn’t stop this whole tranquil and discerning act soon Louis’ hands are never going to stop trembling.

“Yeah, sure,” the fairy breathes, because he’s pretty sure he couldn’t deny Harry a single thing when he’s like this. So genuinely and gratuitously showing interest for Louis and his life and his mind and reasoning.

Harry’s small smile grows into a satisfied grin and he sits down next to Louis on the bed. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, clearly signalizing that he wants to say something, and Louis just looks down on his hands, waiting patiently for him to find the right words.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry murmurs at last. “The thing with your mom? You didn’t have to.”

Louis snaps his head up to give him an incredulous look. It’s really starting to tear at his heart, how Harry continuously feels the need to essentially apologize to Louis _every time_ the fairy does something remotely to Harry’s advantage. It’s a pattern that he in the beginning appreciated but as time’s gone on he now resents.

Well. He guesses he has himself to blame for a part of it. He still painfully remembers them at the start of this whole trip—how Louis constantly insulted and quipped and gave Harry a hard time. If this had been a couple of weeks ago, Louis would never do something nice for Harry if there wasn’t a bigger picture behind it not including the curly haired boy.

Not that it wasn’t justified, back then. Harry didn’t exactly use to be the most charming either, Louis knows he was just as bad if not worse. He’s well aware, and he knows that Harry is, too, or he wouldn’t have been able to make the changes he’s made. But the fact that Harry has _yet_ to accept decency from other creatures, that he constantly needs to assure Louis that Louis doesn’t have to, like Louis is for some reason doing this against his will, is what has the short boy bothered and concerned. Sad.

He doesn’t voice any of this, because he feels like that’s not a conversation to be had in the haste of showing Harry his sleeping place.

So instead he makes sure to look as convincing and serious as possible as he deadpans;

“ _Yeah_. I did.”

Harry purses his mouth and keep his stare fixed on his lap.

“It’s not like I can’t handle people disliking me. I don’t want you to feel like—obligated to go out of your way to make things easy for me.”

“What?” Louis’s eyes narrow. “That’s so not what that was. When have I ever made things easier for you because I felt _obligated_ to?”

Harry is silent, so Louis nods and continues.

“You’re good, Harry. And doing nice things for you isn’t ever a burden to me.”

It’s a simple and honest statement, but Harry lets out an almost panicked laugh like it’s making him question his entire existence, and Louis just wants to explain it to him, calmly lay out all the facts and secrets hidden in the dents of life in front of Harry and make him always feel alright.  

“ _God_ ,” he says, running a rushed hand through his hair. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?”

“ _Stuff_. Like. Stuff that makes me—“

Harry doesn’t finish, but rather just lets his hand fall back to his side and shakes his head, but his dimples are prominent, so it must be a positive unspoken ending. Louis’ mind runs through options. Makes me what? Makes me feel important? Makes me happy?

Makes me love you?

Louis kind of wouldn’t mind every single option.

“…So,” Harry starts again instantly, jumping up from the bed and heading straight for the door, and that’s clearly him saying that the topic is very dropped. That unfinished sentence will probably haunt Louis’ conscience for the rest of his life, but you know. Louis is fine. “How about you show us around, hm? I’m warming up to this whole cutesy forest concept.”

A grin breaks out on Louis’ face at that.

“I’m really glad, because you have so much left to see.”

They happily exit his room and move back to the open bungalow, but Louis stops abruptly in the doorway when they reach it, causing Harry to almost barge into him from behind.

Niall is already fast asleep, and Liam and Zayn are sitting closely about three beds away, knees knocking together as they converse lowly. They haven’t realized that they’re being watched, and Louis feels like maybe he shouldn’t intrude on this.

He cautiously looks back at Niall and nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds the cupid’s eyes now wide open and glaring at him with an intensity of a thousand angry suns. He shakes his head subtly and makes swift waving motions with his hands to make Louis leave, and if he were able to speak Louis is sure it would sound something like “if you interrupt those two right now I will fuck you _up_ ”.

Louis takes the hint with a small nod, before turning on his heel and pulling Harry along with him.

“Um,” Harry tries briefly, but he lets himself be dragged away.

“Looks like we’ll have to wait with that whole tour thing,” Louis says. “True love haltered that plan a bit. But I guess since you and I are stuck together we got to figure something out, yeah?”

They’re far enough away from the bungalows by now, and Louis realizes he still hasn’t let go of Harry’s arm. He immediately does, making sure to put a bit of distance between the two. They’re out in public now, at home, Louis’ home where creatures really love to gossip, and he kind of doesn’t want that just yet. Maybe one day. But not yet.

“Right,” Harry agrees. The corners of his mouth are twitching.  

They continue walking for a bit, and Louis kind of just lavishes in the feeling of being back. Moving his fingers along bushes and trees on the way, enjoying the tingling feeling in his hands and feet as he finally gets to feel one with nature and sunlight and growth again. He hasn’t realized just how intensely he’s missed this until now, but he’s so glad he got the chance to.

”I haven’t noticed before,” Harry suddenly voices, and Louis is so caught up in the green, fuzzy feeling of comfort that it kind of startles him. “How nature seems to come a little more alive around you.”

“Hm?”

Louis looks away from the willow tree they just passed, dragging his hand behind to linger on the dangling branches, to Harry who’s watching him with a meditative tilt of his head and a tentative raise of his brow.

“You know. The grass grows a little greener. Flowers blooms a little faster.”

Louis can’t help but blush from the statement, a blatant admission to Harry watching him carefully once again, really, truly observing.

“I’m a nature fairy, Harry. It’s my job.”

“Yeah, I know, but.” The spirit cuts himself off to think for a moment. “But it’s still really nice. It suits you.”

“Suits me?” Louis swallows and tries to sound as nonchalant as Harry is sounding, even though his heart is pounding and pulsating in his ears.

Harry hums in confirmation.

“That’s always you, isn’t it? Making everything bloom brighter.”

He says it so effortlessly, like it’s the humblest truth, and Louis’ heartstrings wobble all over the place. There isn’t a moment he can pinpoint where Harry went from ‘you have nice ears’ to casually dropping compliments like ‘you make everything bloom brighter’, but it has happened somehow and Louis wants to cry and lie down and run around and kiss Harry for days and nights.

It also manages to make Louis’ cheeks blossom redder than any of the roses they’re passing, which isn’t quite as amazing. Louis isn’t at loss for words a lot.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he settles for, echoing Harry’s words from before.

Harry’s eyes are twinkling back.

_Stuff that makes me happy. Stuff that makes me love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just disgusting. tooth-rotting. almost 6k of fluff. but let me live they're slowly entering their honeymoon phase after all the fighting so it's COOL 
> 
> also sorry for the wait, i've had tons of schoolwork lately but at least it doesn't take 3 months between updates anymore djfdhj i truly don't deserve any of u 
> 
> BUT as always, despite of my unowrthiness i'm still so happy ur here and reading and liking and commenting i see n read everything and i smile so wide i pass out every time xxxxxxx and if u ever wanna talk hmu on tumblr @tequiladimples i will 137% love u FOREVER


	24. chapter 22; the forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna apologize for taking over a month to update, BUT i'm making up for it bc this chapter is roughly 13k long. i hope u enjoy and i love u so much

What with Liam and Zayn bonding, Louis and Harry are once again left with each other to make time pass.

Not that Harry complains at all at this point. If he’s quite honest, he thinks he could probably spend endless days and nights in Louis’ presence. Especially here, in the Forest, where small bunches of daisies follow his steps and his smile shines brighter and livelier than ever before.

Something that makes Harry want to kiss him and touch him and maybe wreck him a little more than usual, hold him up against a tree and make him whimper into Harry’s mouth and beg for friction.

But Harry digresses.

Louis had directly started walking again, seeming awfully determined about where they’re going, and Harry’d just followed him through the greens and the sun, only really making one half-hearted attempt at finding out where Louis’ taking them.

“Would you mind telling me where we’re going?” he’d asked lightly, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, dear Harold, wouldn’t that ruin the whole surprise?”

“I wasn’t aware this was a surprise.”

“You are now, aren’t you?”

So that’s how they now stand in front of a huge, loud, crystal clear waterfall. 

Harry has seen many things throughout his existence, mountain top views and deep jungles, but he hasn’t seen a waterfall this up-close until now, and he finds that he quite likes how small and insignificant it makes him feel. He looks over to Louis and in that moment, they’re both small and their problems are small and the reasons why Harry shouldn’t allow himself to feel exactly what he’s feeling for Louis are so very small.

Louis has a wide, glowing grin on his face as he looks over at Harry to see his reaction. The honey tinted skin on his cheeks grow increasingly pink when he realizes Harry’s already looking at him, and the fairy quickly looks back in front of them, presumably to hide the flusterment.

“Listen, Haz, I know I’m pretty but you have the most beautiful oasis in all the worlds in front of you right now. You might want to pay attention.”

Harry might, yeah. But he also might want to keep observing the flutter of Louis’ eyelids and the swoop of his eyelashes for a little while longer.

God. Imagine if his mom would see him now.

That thought has been decreasing violently in importance to him the more time has passed. By now it just kind of feels like an aimless mantra he needs to have bouncing around in his head, but doesn’t actually matter anymore. Because how can it matter what his mother thinks, really, when Louis is right next to him looking like he holds summer in his palms?

(Harry doesn’t quite know when his infatuation with Louis also turned him into a poet, but he figures they go hand in hand.)

“It’s beautiful,” he confirms with a crooked smile, and Louis nods enthusiastically.

“I come here all the time when I’m visiting home,” he says. “It’s soothing, isn’t it? Even when it’s full of people it has a sort of harmonic atmosphere.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, but agrees. The place is practically empty for the moment, spare for a few other fairies playing around in the water on the other side of the lake, and the sound of water always did have a calming effect on Harry.

“So what exactly is your plan?” he asks. “Because, don’t get me wrong, I would love to keep standing here, but—“

Louis snorts.

“Don’t be silly.”

And then he takes off towards the wall of rushing water, the sun reflecting on his wings and casting small specks of light around the meadow as they move in heavy flutters, lifting him higher and higher until he’s reached the top of the waterfall. He turns to sit down on a protruding rock, dangling his legs and resting his chin in his palm while giving Harry an expectant look.

“Come on, then!” he calls out, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth in a very daring manner, and Harry blinks a couple of times. His teeth sink into his lower lip.

So like, here’s the thing. Harry is not overly fond of heights.

It’s not like he’s _scared_ or anything. He spends a majority of his work time flying over cities and oceans, for gods’ sake. It’s just, well. That’s a completely different situation because he doesn’t have to worry about a single thing in that form. He feels invincible when he’s transferring through air.

Not that he isn’t invincible in his physical form. Not that he can’t transform into his spiritual form whenever he wants to.

Fuck, it’s irrational. He knows it is. There’s no real and valid excuse as to why heights would ever make him uncomfortable in his physical form. It’s the most irrational thing in all of the worlds, and Harry detests how it always manages to make him light-headed and paranoid. He especially hates the way his stomach turns as he looks up the probably twenty feet to where Louis’ effortlessly perched right now. The rock looks unreliable and Harry is not about to trust it.

“What is your motive?” he replies suspiciously, and the fairy rolls his eyes.

“Come up here, you coward.”

And, well. No one calls Harry Styles a _coward_. He’s not a fucking coward. He’ll show Louis coward, he’ll show him—

So with a huff, Harry dissolves to reappear right at Louis’ side on the rock just a second later.

“I’m not a fucking coward,” he says resolutely, causing Louis to yelp and jump slightly, losing his balance for a moment. He clings to Harry’s arm to not fall down and proceeds to give him a pointed glare.

“Oh my _god_ , Harold, warn a guy before you appear out of thin air.”

An embarrassingly soft giggle tumbles out of Harry—it’s really not his fault that Louis has this effect on him—and he gives the fairy an innocent smile as Louis slowly lets go of Harry’s arm again, his hand slipping down to lie flat against the rock right next to Harry’s own.

It’d be very easy to slip his hand into Louis’ just about now, Harry notes. But he looks between their bodies, and he looks to the fairies laughing and swimming around below, and he doesn’t.

So he’s still too scared to fully act on his feelings. He still doesn’t dare initiate anything when they’re not alone or horny, and he still hasn’t mentioned a thing about how he really feels, despite Zayn’s pep talk giving him a bit more confidence and clarity.

He hopes to maybe gain the last bit he needs now. He hopes that maybe Louis will give him the last piece of confirmation he needs to take that step. Because honestly, while he loves every tender moment spent with Louis, this weird tip toeing between being a couple and being—whatever it is they are—it’s tiring him out.

Then he realizes he’s getting lost in thought—again—and dives straight back into business.

“I’m still suspicious of your motive,” he enlightens Louis, causing the fairy to turn to him with a smug grin.

“Oh, that,” he shrugs. “We’re going to jump from here,” and Harry nearly chokes on his own spit.

He’s not scared. He’s _not_ —they’re not even _that_ far up, it could’ve been a lot worse, really, and Harry knows there’s no way he’s going to hurt himself. He’s a pain spirit, for gods’ sake. This is a piece of cake for him.

That doesn’t make him unable to severely question Louis’ plan, though. And it doesn’t stop him from sweating at the idea of throwing himself from a cliff when he’s still in a body fully capable of receiving pain.

“Um. Why?”

Harry hopes that Louis won’t notice the way his voice is a little strained and breathless, but the smaller boy immediately snaps his head up to watch Harry with a confused frown.

Harry tries his best to look unbothered and casual as his eyes flick between Louis’ face and the tranquil surface below, but it’s evidently not working. It doesn’t even take Louis a full three seconds until his confusion melts into amused disbelief, and he has to bite back a grin.

“Are you… Actually _scared_?” he asks, eyebrows raised so high they should be touching his hairline.

“I’m not scared,” Harry snaps, a tiny bit too quickly and a bigger bit too aggressively. “You’re fucking scared. Shut up.”

But Louis is Louis and Louis is literally sent from the deepest pits of Harry’s worst nightmares to make his life miserable, so the fairy just whistles and purses his mouth like this is the best news he’s ever heard.

“You’re scared of heights. Holy shit.”

“Louis.”

“You spend probably more time in the air than I do and you’re _scared of_ _heights_.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Harry gives Louis a pointed shove and then crosses his arms grumpily, well aware he’s acting like a child but so is Louis, so, like. No one can blame him.

“How does that even work?”

Harry breathes deeply and sends away about fifty different prayers to different gods to please give him strength in this moment to stay calm and not throw Louis off this damn cliff.

“It works,” he states, “because I’m not fucking scared of heights, Louis.”

He refuses to meet the blue gaze he can feel so intently on him, instead staring straight forward (and not down, good god). Louis is quiet now, though, he’s quiet for quite a while, and when he answers again he doesn’t sound as amused.

“You know you are allowed to be scared of things,” he says slowly. “Right?”

“Of course,” Harry huffs. “I’m just not scared of heights. I just… Find them a tiny bit uncomfortable when I’m in my physical form.”

“… Okay.” Louis nods, but Harry can hear in his voice that he doesn’t genuinely buy that, he’s just deciding to take the easy road. Somehow, to Harry, that’s even worse.

“Don’t patronize me,” he snarls.

“I’m _not_.” There’s a hint of a growing grin in Louis’ voice again. “It’s cute.”

Harry hates him. He hates Louis and his entire pretty, smug face and anything Harry’s ever said or thought that’s contradicting that statement has been a feverish delusion.

“It’s not _cute_.”

“It’s endearing.”

“You’re really trying it today, aren’t you?”

Louis beams brighter than the sun, and he stands up, careful not to slip.

Not that that would matter to Louis, Harry thinks sourly. He has wings to save him. Harry, on the other hand, would fall to his demise.

(Harry would most likely turn to air before hitting the surface. His fear is still irrational.)

“Come on,” Louis says, reaching out a hand. “We’re still doing this.”

Harry stares at Louis’ hand as if it’s going to choke him.

“No,” he protests firmly. “We’re not.”

“ _Yeah_ , we are.” Louis’ voice is just as determined, and Harry mentally curses at Louis’ always way too stubborn personality.

He’s not going to budge this time, though. He feels exposed, his pride is severely hurt, Louis’ laughed at him, he’s sitting on a very unreliable rock twenty feet above the ground, and this is not the kind of moment when he’d give in to Louis’ ridiculous ideas. It’s not, and he’s making sure to convey that with all his might as he defiantly meets Louis’ sky blue stare.

Surprisingly, Louis is the one to sigh and give up, and Harry feels a pang of victory shoot through him. He truly didn’t think it was possible, but here he stands today. A winner.

Louis opens his mouth to speak and Harry is looking forward to hearing the admitted defeat. It’s going to soothe his ears for months and months to come.

“Spiders,” is what Louis says, and Harry’s face drops immediately.

“Um.” He blinks, puzzled. “Okay.”

“I’m scared of them,” Louis clarifies. “I really, really don’t like spiders. They have hairy legs and too many eyes for my mental health to handle. For years I hated working during night time because spiders _thrive_ in this forest during the night and if one would emerge I wouldn’t be able to see it.”

Louis is looking completely sincere and Harry’s brow furrows. 

“You’re a nature fairy,” he states.

“Yes, Harry, nice observation. I’m a nature fairy who’s scared of spiders.”

Harry can’t help but break into a small smile.

“But they’re so _small_.”

“Don’t say that. They know that’s how you think. They know you’ll underestimate their lethality because of their size and then they’ll fucking kill you.”

Harry hums in amusement, the bitterness in his chest slowly washing away.

“Is that some kind of metaphor?”

“Actually, yes, Harold. I know how small beings think. And one day they’re going to come for me.”

A laugh bubbles out of Harry, against his will but still very much genuine, and he ignores the flash of what he swears is pride in Louis’ eyes at the reaction.

“Yeah, okay, that’s pretty ironic,” he remarks, and Louis nods.

“Yeah. Kind of like a spirit being scared of heights, no?”

And Harry rolls his eyes but he does get Louis’ point and his insides feel warm because instead of keeping Harry grumpy and mortified, Louis decided to tell Harry about something equally lame about himself, turning the mockery into sympathizing in one swift moment. It’s the subtlest way to make Harry feel better but it’s also the most efficient and exactly what Harry needs, and, yeah. Harry really doesn’t hate Louis.

“Whatever,” he says finally, slowly standing up next to Louis. “Let’s get this fucking over with.”

The bright smile on Louis’ face crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose, and Harry thinks just that image is probably worth jumping to his death for.

“It’s _fun_ , Harry,” the fairy proclaims, taking a steady grip on Harry’s hand. “My friends and I do this all the time.”

“Right.” Harry isn’t fully believing him, but he guesses there’s no turning back now, anyway.

It’ll be over in seconds, he tells himself. He’ll fall, and he’ll land, and that’ll be it. Easy peasy.

“Ready?” Louis gives Harry’s hand a squeeze and looks up at him for confirmation.

No, not really.

“Yeah,” Harry says with a wistful sigh. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

Louis snorts.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Sadly no, it’s been a while since last time, but you’re welcome to do so any time.”

“Fuck you. I’m going to count to three now.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“And then we’re going to jump.”

“Got it.”

“One…”

Harry can’t help but tighten his grip on Louis’ hand and he can see Louis smile from the corner of his eye.

“Two…”

Harry takes one last breath and concentrates on not looking down.

“Three!”

Three, and they’re throwing themselves out from the rock, their bodies cutting through the serene air. Blurred blues and greens whooshes past Harry’s vision, before he’s slammed into the lake and the cold water engulfs all his senses.

He loses grip on Louis’ hand as they hit the surface, and Harry is quick to shoot up again, gasping for air, adrenaline still rushing in his veins.

His clothes are sticking uncomfortably to his skin and the water is just a bit too cold to be considered nice, but it’s oddly refreshing and the rush he got from the fall makes the colors around him a bit more vibrant and he has to grin to himself.

Louis’ head emerges from underwater just a moment later, and he’s already laughing and yelling and clapping his hands together.

“Isn’t it _great_?” he exclaims, leaning back so he’s floating with his face peering up at the baby blue sky above him. “We’ll totally do that again in a bit.”

Harry can’t take his eyes off of him. Louis has already told him about all of these places and just how much he loves it, has depicted it so vibrantly and beautifully Harry’d felt like he was there, but it’s still nothing compared to seeing Louis here physically, in action, in his true element.

They’re slowly starting to move towards the shore where the lake is a lot shallower. The water reaches to right under Harry’s shoulder while Louis has to fight with all he has to keep his face above the water and touch the ground with his toes at the same time. Harry laughs about it, and Louis splashes water in Harry’s face repeatedly, which sends them into a raging water fight. They’re progressively moving closer to each other as they go along, their mixed laughter filling the meadow, and when Harry is so close he can see the droplets of water on Louis’ lips gleam, he makes his decision very quickly.

Something just clicks for him, in that moment, with Louis this close to him, looking like nothing in the world has ever hurt him and particularly, looking at Harry like Harry’s never hurt anyone. Harry doesn’t know if those other fairies are still around, but he also finds himself not caring even the slightest.

So Harry puts down his feet on the soggy ground and snakes a hand around Louis’ waist, and he brings the boy in for a kiss. Louis’ lips are wet and cold and plump from the water, as is his skin, but his mouth and his stuttered breath when Harry leans in is warming Harry all the way into the deepest parts of his soul.

It takes a second before Louis reciprocates it, his chest completely still against Harry’s for the shortest of time. It’s enough for Harry to almost regret it and start to pull back, but soon enough Louis hangs his arms around Harry’s neck with a widening smile and pushes himself up so he can wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, and Harry hums in appreciation.

Harry has kissed a lot of people in his life. More than the average person, definitely. Probably more than the average god, too. He’s slept with humans and spirits and creatures of all kinds, he’s by no means a stranger to the physical touch.

But he thinks that with Louis he might as well be. It’s just so overwhelmingly different, holding Louis close and feeling his breath become uneven and feeling his fingers twirl his curls. Harry’s done this enough times to know that he no longer finds it very exciting, that it’s always been more a way to pass time and to momentarily quench his need for validation, but with Louis… It’s just not like that. With Louis he just feels, he feels and feels and feels and it doesn’t cease. He wants to touch Louis all the time, he wants to keep kissing him until his jaw is slack and his chest moves in uneven hitches, and it’s not just a simple activity for him.

There’s just a different taste on Louis’ lips than on those other creatures. Louis’ lips taste like possibilities and understanding and up until now Harry’s only ever had misfortune on his tongue.

 

~

 

Harry decides to try his very best at that dinner.

After this entire morning and afternoon with Louis, he’s one hundred percent sure that he wants to keep boy around for as long as possible, and a very obvious way to help that happen is to get on Louis’ family’s and friends’ good side. It’s extremely important to Harry to make a good impression on all of these people, and he will not stop until he has every single creature at this table swept off of their feet.

He knows how to work his charm. He always has. He used to love manipulating people with it—trick gullible humans into trusting him and liking him and feel safe with him. He knows how to make other creatures do whatever he wants, and he knows just how to make that loyalty backfire and snap them like a twig. His entire being is a tool and he’s polished his functions to excellence.

Of course he’s not going to do that now, though. Not just because he particularly is going for a good, wholesome impression this time, because he wants to do this for Louis, but also because he’s found that playing around with people like that doesn’t really… Do it for him anymore.

It used to bring him a wicked sense of comfort, probably brought on by the placebo effect feeling of a little bit his own pain being lifted off his shoulders and onto someone else.

That kind of satisfaction has only ever worked for the moment, though, the emptiness coming right back and right down on him as soon as he gets a minute to himself. Hence why Harry has always, when it comes down to it, been sincerely and irrevocably unhappy.

That is, until Louis looks like crying as Jesy tells them about her condition, and Harry feels a small twinge of something uneasy and wrong at the sight of another creature’s sadness. A will to make him smile.

That is, until Taylor throws her arms around Harry’s neck and thanks him like he is the best thing in her world, and Harry thinks for the first time that, this. This illuminating warmth in his chest right there and now, that’s what he’s been desperately been searching for his whole life.

That is, until he sees Zayn with adoration in his eyes as he and Liam slowly fall for each other and Harry sees that despite his awful life so far, he’s happy now, and that maybe the same is possible for Harry.

He knows he’s going to pay for this. He knows his mother is going to find out and punish him. He knows he could be disowned, imprisoned or killed. But he’s still the happiest he’s ever been.

“Harry,” an elf next to him starts as soon as they’re all seated at the giant dining table, filled to the brink with all kinds of delicious food and wine. They’re eyeing him up and down as if to decide what to make of him. “How do you know our Louis?”

Louis, who’s sitting opposite him, looks up at the mention of his name. He’s next to his mom—Johanna, Harry’s learned—and they’ve been eagerly chatting and laughing and smiling so brightly as they work through the food on their plates. It’s so obvious they’re close, that they think the world of each other, love positively glowing in their eyes.

(Once when Harry was still very young, he told his mother that he loved her.

It was a trying thing—he’d gotten to go with Eris to Olympus at a party because he was beautiful and charismatic and Eris likes to show things off. And when up there, he heard Eleanor conversate quietly with her mother, Ourania. Harry knew that she was the muse of astronomy, and he quite liked that. He’d always been longing to see the stars the lost souls would whimper about in their sleep.

As the conversation between mother and daughter unfolded, Eleanor suddenly threw her arms around her mother and exclaimed a heartfelt “I love you, mother!” and Ourania’s eyes glowed with light and admiration, pressing back into the hug.

Harry wanted that. Wondered if maybe that’s why he never got any hugs himself, because he never told his mom he loved her. Thought that even though he’s never ever heard anyone from Tartaros use the L word in his life, he figured it might be worth a try.

So when they were settled in Tartaros again after the party, right before going to bed, he stopped in the doorway and said “I love you,” toes pointed inwards and a thumbnail between his teeth.

His mother had just looked at him, a sudden cutting kind of frost in her dark eyes, and then she’d sent him to bed without another word.

Three days later during the wing ceremony, Harry was the first one to get his wings ripped off. Eris told the lost souls to take twice as much time with his as with the others.)

“Well,” Harry starts, giving Louis a small smile. Louis desperately wants to grin, he can tell, because the fairy has to look down on his lap to regain control of his face. “We crossed paths on UoT a couple of times.”

Harry can’t pinpoint when exactly their first encounter became funny to the pair, funny to him. Because at the time he had certainly found them the least funny things to ever occur in his entire existence. Not that he’s complaining, now.

The elf nods fervently, eyes intent on him.

“I went to the university, too! The friends you make there are invaluable, they inform him kindly, turning to Liam, Zayn and Niall. “Are you also school mates?”

“Um,” Niall scratches his neck. “No, actually. I’m from Pantheon, Liam is from Grimm, and—well, Zayn is also from Grimm, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We just recently found out he is.”

Niall’s clarification seems to confirm something for the fairy and they get a pointed twinkle in their eye, and eye Zayn’s face extra hard. Harry doesn’t think much of it—surely they’re just admiring his amazing physical beauty. Harry’s been there, several years ago. When he was paired with Zayn to be his haunting spirit, his ghost of subtle, empty pain that seemed to follow him wherever he went, Harry remembers thinking that it’s a pity. A pity, that such a pretty face has such dark thoughts.

Of course he didn’t mean it genuinely then—or maybe he did, deep down, but it was so supressed Harry can’t recognize any sincerity in the memory. There had been malice in the way he thought about it then. Oh how divine pain looked in a pair of eyes that deep. What a pretty exterior he gave torment.

“It’s a stunning set of friends you’ve made, Louis, I must say,” the elf compliments, still ogling Zayn especially. Harry catches Liam frown and looking down on his plate, and he smiles just slightly.

He kinds of wishes he could transfer some of his own confidence onto Liam at times. The werewolf is undoubtedly one of the most goodhearted people he’s met and he certainly deserves to take on the world with pride more than Harry does. Maybe it’d also finally make Liam get his act together and shag Zayn once and for all. You never know.

Johanna agrees with a hum, following the elf’s gaze onto Zayn.

“Doesn’t he look familiar?” she ponders, pursing her mouth to the side in thought.

“He does,” the elf nods. “Something about those clean features…”

“Is he not a dazzling image of Queen Patricia?”

“ _That’s_ it!” the elf exclaims with their eyes blown wide. “Oh my god, he looks _just like her_!”

This doesn’t really tell Harry anything, but he can see how Louis’ stare widens across the table and the boy leans forward to get a better look of Zayn.

Harry, quite obviously, doesn’t know what this Queen Patricia looks like, so he wouldn’t know how much truth there is to that statement. But judging by Louis’ reaction, his dropped jaw and huge eyes just staring at Zayn, he kind of understands that there must in fact be a lot of it.

“I’ll say,” Louis just breathes in wonder, tilting his head as he watches the dark boy even more intently.

Zayn looks like a deer caught in headlights with how flustered he seems. He looks between Louis, and the elf, and Johanna, and back at Louis.

“Who’s,” he swallows, “who’s Queen Patricia?”

Yeah, Harry’s curious about that, too. Who is Queen Patricia and why is this a big deal?

“Queen Patricia has golden hands,” Louis explains quietly. “She’s. She’s the one who defeated Rumpelstiltskin.”

And Harry is pretty sure Zayn isn’t breathing. Rigid in his chair, he just stares emptily at Louis as if the fairy’s words are just impossible to process.

“Oh,” he utters. It’s far too high-pitched to be casual and he clears his throat. “Um. Uh. Right. I’m. Okay.”

Harry isn’t too familiar with the exact details of the Grimm fairy-tales, but he does know how to put two and two together. Zayn being from Grimm, Zayn looking like Patricia, Patricia having golden hands…

Of course the theory isn’t set in stone, but it’s not that far off to guess that Queen Patricia is Zayn’s mother. Which means, that if that’s true…

If that’s true, Zayn just found his family.

Harry is suddenly overwhelmed by a massive wave of relief and indescribable joy. Because this… This could ensure a happy ending for Zayn. Zayn, who’s gone through life thinking he’s all alone, Zayn, who’s been pushed around from foster home to foster home, Zayn, who’s been so afraid to get attached to anyone because of how he’s had to leave them every single time.

Zayn. Who’s been hurting all his life but Harry gets to see make it through that.

Louis’ words from that day at the beach ring in his ears, _it might help to see him get a happy ending despite all that_ , Harry remembers the bitter feeling of scepticism because this is Earth and no happy endings are real, but he still went with it because it’s _Louis_ , and he tried, and he tried, and he tried, and he made friends with Zayn.

Which only makes this realization that much sweeter because now he can be unselfishly happy for Zayn, too. Something very out of place and unfamiliar for him, but not unwelcome at all. It’s the purest sort of happiness he’s ever felt, and Harry feels his face break into a glowing smile as he watches Zayn’s shocked expression beside him.

 

~

 

The dinner keeps going, Harry making sure to engage in every conversation and to laugh in all the right places, and he feels a surge of accomplishment when at the end of it even Johanna’s eyes twinkle happily when she looks at him. Louis also looks delighted beyond all wits that Harry’s being this agreeable, and Harry thinks that might be his favorite part.

As the night goes on, the five boys together with some other elves and fairies, remove themselves from the table to sit on the soft grass. Some of Louis’ other friends are starting to talk about dancing and music, but Harry’s very content right where he is. Which is to say, lying on his back with his head resting comfortably in Louis’ lap.

Louis caught on very quickly that Harry likes having his hair played with. It’s just a thing, it’s always been a thing, really, and Harry just completely melts into the touch every time. It was Louis idea, too, this time, as he’d disappeared for a minute and come back with his hands full of daisies, demanding that Harry let him put them in his hair.

(“They’d compliment your angelic face very nicely, Harold, I don’t make the rules.”

“I’m pretty sure my angelic face looks plenty angelic even without flowers, though?”

“No. No, I don’t think it does, actually.)

And hence, here they are now. Harry guesses this should be… Well, beneath him, in a way. To lie with his head in a pretty fairy’s lap, slightly buzzed on red wine and let dainty hands nestle flowers into his curls. It’s affectionate and close and very innocent, in a way _the_ Harry Styles is not ever.

But it feels better than anything he’s ever felt. Harry’s body is relaxed and his chest is light and he feels like the sun is shining out from Louis’ fingertips and into his mind, making everything vivid and beautiful.

So truly, fuck _the_ Harry Styles.

Just right by them, Louis’ fairy and elf friends are now getting up to dance, having gone to grab flutes and violins and ukuleles and they clap along to the rhythm, carefree melody slowly filling the air.

Louis hums appreciatingly when he hears it, clearly recognizing the song, and he quietly starts singing along. His voice is soft and high and like the gentlest velvet blanket to Harry’s ear. Not a single note is out of place, and Harry’s eyes, who’s been closed for quite a while, snaps open immediately to look at Louis with wonder.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” he says, quietly, because while he wants to let Louis know how his singing might be Harry’s new favorite sound, he doesn’t want Louis to stop singing, either.

He does, though, of course he does, because even though Harry’s slowly started to learn how to give out compliments in a somewhat blasé way, Louis doesn’t quite know how to receive them with the same ease. His ears go red and his lower lips wobble a little as he tries to appear unbothered, but Harry always knows it affects him so much.

“Well,” the fairy speaks, just as lightly. “I’m not like the music fairies or anything, you should hear them, their harmonies sound like—“

“I’m sure they sound lovely,” Harry cuts him off, smile nipping at the corners of his mouth. “But I’m pretty sure I’d still prefer your singing.”

The rose tint on Louis’ cheeks is addicting and Harry never wants to stop being the reason for it.

They fall into a comfortable silence once again as Louis finishes his decorating of Harry’s hair under hushed humming, pretending like he doesn’t notice Harry’s eyes on him the entire time.

When he’s done, he still doesn’t take his hands off Harry’s curls, keeping on twining strands between his delicate fingers and rubbing his fingertips lightly into Harry’s scalp, and Harry is relaxed and he’s happy and he’s so very infatuated.

“Hey,” Louis nudges Harry’s shoulder suddenly, bringing the green-eyed boy out of his trance, and points out to the dancing mass of people. “Would you look at that.”

Harry looks in the pointed direction and his eyes widen with joy when he sees Zayn and Liam among all the forest creatures. They’ve been swirling around in rugged circles and giggling relentlessly, clearly having the time of their lives ever since the music first started playing, but now—

They’re kissing. Right there, out in the open, catching and chasing each other’s mouths like they’re playing the world’s loveliest game. And while it’s totally lovesick and disgusting, Harry is so happy for them he thinks his insides might just burst.

“It’s about _time_ they got their shit together,” is what he chooses to comment, not taking his eyes off his elated friends. “It’s kind of gross how they’ve tip toed around each other.”

Louis gives out an agreeing sound, grinning madly.

“Yeah. Only kind of, though. It’s also kind of cute. Delicate.”

“I guess,” Harry allows, the corners of his mouth perking upwards. “They’re really gone for each other, aren’t they?”  

“They really are.”

Louis doesn’t say anything more after that, and Harry lets himself briefly wonder if they’d actually been talking about Liam and Zayn or if there had been some kind of underlying message. He kind of hopes there was. He needs there to be.

“So, Harry,” a high, raspy voice speaks from above him, and when Harry turns his head Louis is smiling mischievously. “Do you, ah—dance?”

Harry can’t help but let out a snort of surprised laughter. Endeared. He is so endeared.

“Original,” he remarks.

Louis just raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to answer the question. His eyes are twinkling like an ocean during sunrise and Harry just shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“No,” he offers at last. “I don’t dance. Like them.”

This seems to be exactly the answer Louis wants, because his smirk spreads into a beam and he grabs Harry by the hand and drags him determinedly into the middle of the meadow to join the crowd.

It’s nothing like the last time they danced together—Harry still has the memory of Louis grinding against him in sweaty club painfully and wonderfully clear in his mind, the proximity and the heat and the shamelessness of it all. Don’t get Harry wrong—it’s an amazing memory. Top five ever, for sure.

This is just different, because there’s nothing sexy about it. Nothing filthy or suggestive or flirty, but only the blatant and undisguised joy of twirling around in circles as fast as they can, crashing into other creatures just to be annoying (especially Liam and Zayn to get their attention, and a chance to give them suggestive looks and make the pair blush), feet light and skipping over the lawn.

Louis is just glowing, is the thing. Harry is positive rays of light are radiating from his hands and chest and eyes, almost blinding the spirit but also making him completely uncapable of tearing his awestruck gaze away. He looks happier than Harry’s seen him so far, probably on the brink of euphoric, and Harry wants to pull him close and hold him and kiss him until he can’t breathe ever again.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even realize Louis’ watching him right back. He doesn’t see the change in Louis’ face when he makes a decision, and he at first doesn’t even notice Louis slowing the pace. When he does, though, he raises a questioning eyebrow, and Louis is evidently struggling to hold back a giddy smile.

“Do you—want to go back to my cabin?” he asks, and the unclothed desire in his eyes makes Harry understand precisely what he’s asking.

Harry smiles so widely he think something might break, and pulls Louis into himself, slipping an arm around his waist as they start moving away from the people and the music.

 

~

 

Harry has Louis against the wall the minute they’re inside Louis’ bungalow, lips attacking Louis’ mouth and hands reaching down to Louis’ thighs to hitch him up on his hips. Louis complies so surely and immediately and it has Harry’s entire body buzzing and glowing like the brightest fireflies. When Louis opens his mouth for air, Harry slips his tongue into his mouth because he needs this, needs to taste and feel and needs to be closer, needs Louis so much he thinks he might go out of his mind. His pants are already tight.

“Pretty,” he can’t help but mumble against Louis’ lips. “Always so fucking pretty.”

Louis whines and pulls Harry tighter against him, digging his nails into the thin fabric of Harry’s shirt and pushing his abdomen forward to line up their bodies so impossibly close Harry barely feels like his own person anymore.

“Bed,” the fairy manages to get out, and Harry complies immediately, steady hands under his thighs carrying Louis across the room and gently putting him down on the petal soft duvet.

Louis is sliding his hands under Harry’s shirt as soon as the spirit is on top of him again, wandering upwards and feeling the warm skin on his stomach and chest. Harry shivers under his touch, but as they start traveling along his waist and over to his back, he feels his spine momentarily tense up.

It’s not that he doesn’t want this, not at all—he’s just excruciatingly aware of the two massive, stretched out and flaming scars he has on his back, very apparent to the touch. He knows that Louis can maybe probably figure out that getting your wings ripped off do leave marks, but Harry still worries that Louis is going to feel the damaged tissue under his fingertips and it’s all going to become too close and too real for him. That he’s going to pull away.

“I have. I have scars—there,” Harry therefore murmurs, and he hates how vulnerable he sounds. “From my wings.”

Louis stops to give him a vigilant look. Harry can practically see his mind work, putting pieces together, and he holds his breath as Louis slowly lowers his hands.

“Okay.” He nods, attentive and assuring. “Do you—not want me to—?”

“No, it’s fine, I just. Didn’t want to scare you away with it.”

And Harry’s cautiousness is justified, it’s so justified because his scars are nasty and Louis isn’t used to that kind of stuff after all, but Louis just lets out a small giggle and pushes back Harry’s fringe from his face.

“You haven’t scared me away yet, so I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed for good.”

He surges back up to reattach their lips and Harry wonders if Louis’ powers work on people too, because he’s pretty sure Louis’ light fingerprints are making Harry’s veins blossom and flowers erupt in his lungs.

They spend seconds and minutes just making out, and Harry thinks Louis is the one person in the worlds he could spend forever just kissing. That’s not the plan tonight, though, because Harry can feel Louis harden against his leg and buck his hips up in search for friction, and the spirit beams against Louis’ lips before he pulls away, sitting on his knees between Louis’ thighs.

His hand travels along Louis’ smooth stomach and down to palm his growing erection, and Louis’ breath hitches. Harry can’t help but lean down, letting his breath ghost over the delicate trail of hair disappearing in under Louis’ trousers.

“What do you want?” he mumbles against soft skin and smiles almost unnoticeably at the way the muscles in Louis’ abdomen clenches. He steadily unzips Louis’ pants and sneaks a hand into his boxers as he waits for the answer, starting to stroke Louis steadily and the fairy’s breath stutters as his hips helplessly buck up into his fist.

“Want—“ Louis whimpers, evidently trying hard to concentrate through the effect Harry has on him, and how incredibly receptive he always is to Harry’s touch has the curly boy painfully hard in his jeans. “Want you to fuck me.”

Harry’s world kind of stops for a couple of seconds. The hand on Louis’ dick freezes immediately and another gorgeous—but unhappy—whine escapes Louis’ lips at the sudden lack of friction.

Louis’ eyes are still fixed on the ceiling, so Harry just keeps on staring until he finally lowers his gaze to lock it with Harry’s. Harry, trying to put aside the fact that this is more or less a dream come true, a miracle and a blessing upon his humble character, bites the inside of his cheek loosely as he searches for an answer.

“Are you sure?” he settles for at last, because god, he always has to ask. Louis hasn’t done any of this before and it’s infinitely important to Harry that everything is done on Louis’ terms.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis says with exasperation detectable on his features. “Do I, after all this time, still strike you as a type of person who has a hard time saying no?”

Harry licks his slowly stretching lips before biting down on a smile. No, Louis doesn’t, not at all. But Harry still has to ask. One of the most essential things he’s learned about Louis from all the time they’ve spent together, is that Louis needs everything to deliberately be his choice. All the moments where Louis has protested against Harry’s initiatives just to become flustered and compliant as soon as Harry asked him what _he_ wanted is sacred content that Harry has safely tucked away in his mind, a loudly speaking sign of how crucial that control is to Louis. The spirit supposes it comes from him being a fairy, that it’s born out of defiance towards other creatures’ tendencies to try and push him around and treat him like he’s fragile.

And Louis isn’t fragile, Harry’s always known he isn’t. So he’ll keep asking.

“Just got to be sure,” he mumbles.

He lets go of Louis to get up and reach for the backpack where he distinctly remembers the lube being, and finds it smoothly along with some condoms. Not that they really need them, he figures, because Harry is clean and Louis hasn’t done this before so presumably so is he, but if this is Louis’ first time, then Harry’s going to do this exemplary and as safely as he possibly can.

When he turns back to the bed, Louis has kicked off his all of his clothes. He’s brought a hand to his erection, stroking himself lazily and while the sight almost makes Harry come on the spot, he also wants to take his time with this.

So when he gets into the bed again, smoothly slipping out of his own clothes on the way, he softly but determinedly locks his fingers around Louis’ wrist to remove his hand.

“Don’t,” he murmurs softly but firmly. “Don’t want you to come too early.”

Louis knits his eyebrows together briefly, but he does comply and a surge of affection runs through Harry’s veins. He wants to make Louis feel good. He wants to make this perfect for him.

“Will it hurt a lot?” Louis asks after a moment of hesitation, and Harry narrows his eyes a little as he tries to find any sort of fear or reluctance behind the statement. He doesn’t want to do this if Louis doesn’t feel one hundred percent ready, and if he sees the slightest sign that Louis is in fact not—then he’s not going to do it. No matter how much he wants to. No matter how much Louis tries to convince him the opposite.

“Usually not a lot,” he answers. “But it will probably hurt in the beginning.”

Louis exhales around a small smile and nods.

“Figured,” he mumbles, letting his hand lightly trace the black marks on Harry’s forearm.

“Is that alright?”

Louis puffs out a short laughter and he looks like stars and rippling streams, and he raises his hands to sink into Harry’s hair and pull him down.

“Yes, it’s _alright_ ,” he assures and connects their lips again. Harry doesn’t protest.

He fits himself immediately in the space between Louis’ thighs, grinding down on him once to feel Louis gasp against his tongue, before leaning back and propping Louis’ legs up, and gripping the lube to pop it open and put some on his fingers.

“You’ll tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” he utters lowly, catching Louis’ glossy gaze for confirmation.

Louis nods fiercely.

“Of course,” he says breathily, “of course, just. Get on with it.”

With a small smile, Harry nods affirmingly and then brings one lube coated finger inside Louis. Louis inhales shakily at the coolness and the unknown sensation, and Harry takes his time sinking the finger all the way in to his knuckle. Louis huffs out a breath and squirms a little, and Harry stops for a bit.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “Yeah, I’m good. Keep going.”

So Harry does, thrusting in and out with his finger a couple of times to get Louis used to the feeling, checking again that Louis is alright before adding a second one. Louis assures him again that he’s fine with a huff and an eyeroll, but Harry doesn’t miss the faint upturn of the corners of his mouth every time he asks, and that’s what truly matters to him.

He leans down to connect their lips as he keeps thrusting his fingers, slowly and sensually. Louis is tight around him, and Harry has to hold back a moan at just the thought of sinking into that heat. He’s been thinking about this since the first time he saw Louis.

Of course, by then it hadn’t meant anything. They’d been heated fantasies only ruled by lust, a want to bend Louis over and turn him into a whimpering mess, it’d been rough and unemotional and nothing at all like this right now. Now Harry just wants _Louis_ to feel good. He wants to be gentle, he wants to be slow, he wants to take his time making Louis come apart underneath him, and he wants to kiss him everywhere, wants to touch, wants to linger.

He keeps going for a bit until he figures Louis is used to the feeling, and then starts curling his fingers tryingly.

The delicious moan escaping Louis’ lips a few seconds later and the way he tips his head back a bit tells Harry all he needs to know.

“Good?” he mumbles as his face slowly melts into a smirk.

Louis shakes out a breath and nods violently.

“Yes,” he hisses, “ _yes_. Please.” He pushes down onto Harry’s fingers again, like he just can’t control himself and Harry has to breathe slowly for a good five seconds to not bring a hand to his own dick and jack off just from the way Louis’ lips are shiny and bitten raw.

“Needy,” he hums. “Can take a third one?”

Louis just nods jerkily and Harry runs a thumb across his plumped lower lip.

“I want to hear you,” he demands softly, and Louis is quick to obey.  

“Another one,” he all but wails. “ _Please_.”

And well. Since he asks so prettily.

Harry takes Louis’ lip between his teeth as he eases a third and final finger in, and he keeps fingering the writhing fairy underneath him, curling and scissoring with every careful jerk until Louis is bucking his hips up against Harry’s stomach for friction on his hard cock.

Harry could do this all night, is the thing. Watch Louis come apart under him, snark turning into slurred pleading and pointed eye rolls turning into fluttering eyelashes, observe the emotion and hazy pleasure dance around in the crinkles and muscles of Louis’ face and it’s enough just to know that he’s behind it. Harry never thought himself to be a foreplay kind of guy, but he supposes Louis just can’t leave a single aspect of his being untouched and unchanged.

His own cock is so hard it’s almost unbearable, but the exquisite moans now tumbling out of Louis’ slack mouth are too intoxicating for Harry to give anything else too much thought. So he keeps going, sinking all three fingers into Louis’ heat knuckle-deep every time, until Louis starts talking again.

“Harry,” he rasps, “want to—“

“What do you want, baby?” Harry asks softly.

“Want your cock,” the fairy gets out and the words go like an electric jolt through Harry’s body and straight to his dick, and he curses lowly. “Now. I’m good, I’m ready.”

Harry nods, pulling his fingers out, and Louis flinches a little at the sudden emptiness.

“Of course you are,” Harry says, a soft hand tracing the soft skin of Louis’ inner thigh. “My gorgeous boy. Always good.”

It’s endearing, how affected Louis is by praise. No matter when or in what context, it always has the fairy’s ears a slightly redder shade and his eyes a bit brighter with satisfaction, and it’s a look Harry _loves_ on him. That one time, back in Wonderland when Louis had first brought up the effectiveness with compliments, Harry had admittedly been very reluctant, but the way Louis turns to a blissed-out mush underneath him now makes Harry want to shower him with admiration every day for the rest of his life.

After rolling the condom on and lubing himself up generously, Harry positions himself and starts to slowly and so carefully ease his cock into Louis, watching his face closely to be sure to catch even the smallest sign of discomfort. A low groan escapes from his mouth at the feeling of Louis’ tight heat finally around him.

Halfway in, Louis grimaces and his breath hitches, and Harry stops to let him get adjusted.

“Okay?” be breathes, holding Louis’ gaze.

“Just need a second,” Louis says, nodding. He clenches around Harry experimentally and Harry has to bite his cheek really hard to prevent an embarrassingly loud moan.

“Okay,” Louis says after a little while. “Keep going.”

Harry is just as slow this time, pushing more and more until his hips are finally flush against Louis.

“You’re doing so well,” Harry murmurs, a thumb stroking Louis’ jawline. “So good, you’re so good, baby.”

It’s so worth it, seeing the blush creep up on Louis’ face, preening under the praise. The corners of Harry’s lips perk up a little and he bends down to catch Louis’ mouth in a messy kiss and Louis reciprocates immediately, bringing his hands up to tangle in the soft hair by Harry’s neck.

The tight, hot friction on Harry’s cock is overwhelming, magnifying all his senses, and he bites down on his lower lip as he starts rocking into Louis, trying to get him accustomed to the sensation. He lets his lips ghost over Louis’ the entire time, nipping and gently pressing down on Louis’ panting mouth every other second like a lifeline, to provide reassurance and serenity, and Louis’ grip in Harry’s curls only tightens.

Harry decides then to change his angle a bit, trying to find the same spot that made Louis’ toes curl and his breathing pause just a few moments ago. It takes a couple of tries, but when Louis’ back arches and he lets out the sweetest moan yet, Harry’s heart skips a beat with victory and he aims at that spot again as he quickens his pace a little.

“So pretty,” he praises, hitting Louis’ prostate with every thrust now, “love how responsive you are, baby, it’s such a lovely look on you.”

Louis starts pressing down to meet Harry while clawing desperately down the spirit’s back. His eyes are fluttering and Harry reaches down to wrap a hand around Louis’ cock.

“Talk to me,” Harry urges, starting to feel that familiar heat build in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t hold back, Lou, want to hear you.”

“ _God_ , don’t stop” Louis moans as Harry starts pumping him slowly. “ _Please_ , I’m—you feel so good, _fuck_.“

Harry’s hand on Louis’ dick starts moving faster while he hits his prostate with every snap of his hips, concentrating fully on making Louis reach his high. The blue-eyed boy is a practically incoherent mess by now, hands fisting in the sheets under him and his ankles locked together behind Harry’s back to pull him in closer.

It doesn’t take many more twists of Harry’s hand until Louis’ comes, white stripes splattering onto his stomach and Harry’s hand as his hips leave the matters, stuttering through his orgasm and clenching so deliciously around Harry, and the completely blissed out look on his face is the most beautiful thing Harry has ever seen.

He’s painfully close now, knowing he’ll only last a couple of thrusts more, so he keeps slipping his aching cock in and out of Louis’ sensitive hole. Louis just watches him with a dreamy look, eyelids fluttering slightly.

“Makes me feel so good all the time,” Louis slurs between breaths. “Always feel safe with you.”

With those words blurring his senses and a final thrust, Harry comes hard, burying himself deep in Louis one last time. He pulls out slowly, and when Louis winces and grimaces at the feeling of it Harry brings a hand down to reassuringly intertwine with Louis’ smaller one. Louis’ face softens again instantly, sending a surge of affection through Harry’s body as he reaches down to the backpack again and pulls out some tissues (he’s got to hand it to Niall, honestly. The boy is thorough) and wipes Louis down gently, before lying down next to the fairy and pulling him close.

They catch their breath together, and the way Louis seems so infinitely satisfied and tranquil has small doses of moonlight swirling through Harry’s nerves. Even though Harry does like Louis’ feistiness and stamina, his biting remarks and sharp looks, he has to admit having Louis like this is something very special and precious to him, too. He figures a very small amount of people in Louis’ life ever gets to see him with his guard this totally demolished, and he likes that concept, of holding a part of Louis that no one else holds.

“This really got me thinking,” Louis speaks up after a little while, his voice still soft and drawly. “Like. When people on Earth have sex and it hurts in the beginning, is it ever like… Awkward for you? To have to be the one in that room making that happen?”

A surprised burst of laughter escapes from Harry and he slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle it.

“Um. It was in the beginning? But you get used to it.”

“Poor Earth humans. Completely unaware of that third presence watching them in their most vulnerable moments.”

Harry hums in agreement and lets his fingers lightly start playing with Louis’ hair.

“I once had a human who got a sex toy stuck up their ass. They had to go to the hospital to take it out.”

Louis gasps. “ _No_.”

“Yes. Like watching a car crash, it was.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“You know something horrific is about to happen but you’re just too far gone to look away.”

Louis turns his face to laugh into Harry’s skin, and the tingly warmth on Harry’s collarbone keeps him grounded.

 

~

 

They lie in silence after that. Louis is pretty sure he can’t feel his toes anymore and he’s lying with his head in the crook of Harry’s neck breathing in his earthy, calm scent and he feels endlessly content.

Once again, he tilts his head up to let his eyes wander along Harry’s jawline and soft cheek and black eyelashes, and he can’t help but wonder how this boy got to where he is. For his life, Louis cannot comprehend how Harry went from being the worst and meanest person Louis’ ever met, to being the caring boy Louis’ ended up falling for.

There’s still something Louis doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, about Harry’s character. There is one important aspect he’s yet to learn about for Harry’s entire persona to make sense.

He wants to figure it all out. He wants to know Harry like the back of his hand, he wants to ask and ask and ask and he wants Harry to talk and talk and talk, until the fog in Louis’ head has lifted completely.

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I have a question.”

He’s met with a soft snort.

“You have a question for me?” Harry muses. “I’m in shock.”

“Haha.”

“Let me just. This has never happened before. I need a second to process.”

“You’re _so_ funny.”

“What’s next—you’re going to tell me I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to, too? That’d just be too many new experiences for me to handle.”

“ _Harry_.” Louis swats his chest in an attempt to underline his disapproval, but Harry just snickers.

“What deep, dark secret do you want to unveil this time, Lou?” he asks calmly, eyes still twinkling humorously.

Louis sighs, face heating up only so slightly at the way Harry pokes fun at him, but he doesn’t seem to be upset or iffy about it in the slightest, so Louis sees that as an okay sign.

“Well.” He pauses, trying to figure out the best way to formulate the question. “The thing with you was that you always enjoyed causing pain, right? And I sort of need to—want to—know… How. Because you’ve changed so drastically and so quickly it just seems unrealistic that you were born with a natural will to hurt other creatures. You know? What made you like it?”

Harry is quiet for so long, smile dropped off of his face now. He’s contemplating, and biting his lip, and scratching his neck, and avoiding Louis’ gaze, and Louis is just a tiny bit from taking it back and changing the subject, when he finally answers.

“It’s very… Vital for understanding that question, to know how we’re raised in Tartaros,” he tries slowly. “We don’t get. We don’t get much love, if you will. You need to earn Mother’s respect and care, and you can’t do that until you’re mature enough to start working, and by then the damage is already done.”

Louis wants to cut in fiercely with how no child should have to _earn_ his own parent’s love, but Harry is evidently not done, so he keeps quiet and lets him continue.

“I don’t think you truly can comprehend what growing up in Tartaros is like unless you’ve done it. We have to hang around the lost souls all day and all night, we have to constantly breathe in that desperation and sorrow and fury, we have to collect pieces of their negative energy to learn what defines pain. Then there’s—there’s the wing ceremony, which causes us a great deal of pain on our own. We’re shoved around and crumbled and crushed again and again, and while exposing us to all of this, they engrave into our brains that if we ever want to feel better, we need to transfer our pain onto other living creatures. The only way to rid ourselves of our misery is to put it on others, and the more pain we cause, the less pain we’ll feel. It’s sick, and it’s manipulative, and not true, and I know that now, but. But it made perfect sense at the time. And you don’t understand what you’d do to relieve all that pent-up agony when you finally get a chance to.”

Louis is slowly starting to regret that he asked.

Or, well, not really, because Harry trusting him with this information means more to Louis than any discomfort can make him fully regret. But the violent twisting of his stomach at the realization of what wicked, vicious powers exist out there, that’s what’s screaming throughout his entire body right now.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything to make it more bearable, as if there were words out there that could possibly erase Harry’s hurt.

“But I don’t want that to be me,” Harry says quickly before Louis gets any further. “That’s just how I was meant to be. That’s how they prepared me for being able to do my job without feeling bad. If I genuinely believe that with every human I work with, I will be a little more healed, I’m going to let the selfishness in me speak louder than any shred of empathy I have left. Because that’s how unbearable that pain is.”

Louis feels sick to his stomach. He wants to throw up, and cry, and pull his hair and bloody _punch_ someone at the mere thought of Harry having to enduring this.

He can’t bring himself to do anything but watch Harry’s face with a pained frown and stroke a curl away from the spirit’s forehead.

“That’s fucked up,” he manages to get out, and he means for it to have some kind of pressure and determination behind it, but it comes out small and low. “That’s—you shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should’ve put you through that.”

Harry just shrugs. He’s calm and pensive like this isn’t a big deal at all to him and Louis’ world is on fire.

“It’s a dead end, though,” Harry says. “If they’d raise us with kindness and comfort and teach us how to love, we wouldn’t survive our job. If someone threw you completely unprepared onto Earth tomorrow saying ‘you’re to only cause people discomfort, pain and torture, you’ll live among death and crying and abuse from this moment on, and it’s going to be like this for the rest of your life’. Wouldn’t it kill you?”

It would, it would, it would, _it would_ and Louis could cry into Harry’s neck because he kind of wishes he didn’t have to know but he’s also infinitely happy and moved that Harry trusts him enough to open up and tell him and share his thoughts and reasoning and _god_.

Louis wants to hold him forever until nothing ever hurts anymore.

“It would,” he just breathes. He doesn’t stop looking at Harry’s face. Harry’s bizarrely peaceful, steady, low-tempered face. 

Harry nods.

“It’d be a stream of never-ending torture to live with what we do every day with a well-functioning conscience. We wouldn’t make it. So they just try their best to erase it from the beginning.”

This is a lot to take in.

“That’s not _fair_.” Louis can feel something wet pooling in the corners of his eyes and he tries so fiercely to hold it down, to keep his voice steady, but it fails him and his voice breaks on the last syllable. “That’s fucking terrible. I hate—I hate that so much.”

Something changes in Harry’s eyes then, for the first time, a sudden wrinkle between his eyebrows and worried greens shifting rapidly across Louis’ face as he watches him more carefully.

“Louis,” he says, lowly now, distraught, and Louis finds it unbearable that he’s been completely composed talking about his horrible background, but the tiniest sign that Louis is upset is what has him reacting.

Louis promised himself once upon a time that he’d never cry in front of Harry. He’d sworn with all his heart that Harry would never get to see him that vulnerable, as especially not if the spirit himself is the reason for Louis’ tears. And here he is now, well on his way to set free the waterworks.

Of course, when he made that promise he didn’t exactly expect the crying to be out of empathy, out of caring for Harry’s well-being.

“And what made you realize it wasn’t true?” he asks. “How did you know?”

Harry smiles fondly as he answers with precision and earnestness, like he’s thought about this over and over and has had the answer for forever.

“Because I quickly realized that being the reason for someone’s happiness made me feel so much better than I tricked myself into thinking being the reason for someone’s pain ever did. And when that was clear to me… I couldn’t just not give in to that. I couldn’t keep being miserable.”

Yeah, they’re spilling. Louis is crying. His tears are out there.

And Harry looks mildly horrified as he rapidly runs a thumb across Louis’ cheek to make it disappear.

“Why are you crying? Louis. I’m okay,” he says, so convincingly and surely, and Louis huffs out a wet laughter.

“Are you?” It’s a genuine question and Louis hopes he manages to convey that, that Harry doesn’t mistake it as incredulous or pitying or something else that’s undesirable and wrong for the situation.

Louis just really needs to know that Harry is alright.

“Yeah,” Harry nods in small motions, hands not leaving Louis’ face. “More okay than I’ve ever been, Lou, are _you_ okay?”

Is Louis okay?

Is _Louis okay_?

Louis is at loss for words, so rather than replying anything at all, he just stares at Harry for several seconds, before wrapping his arms so tightly around Harry’s middle he can feel his knuckles go white.

He’s honestly feeling like he could get an aneurysm any moment by now, and he presses his lips onto the skin separating Harry’s heart from the cold, harsh air. His own chest is stained the tiniest with regret and those small blotches keeps asking him if he hadn’t been better off not knowing all of this.

But he knows deep down he wouldn’t, first of all because Harry not sugar coating things for him is still his favorite concept, still has him so eternally grateful. Harry isn’t scared of showing Louis the ugly parts of reality, the first one who isn’t trying to shield him from it all, and him not keeping Louis in the dark like every other creature in his life means more than words.

And secondly, because the last pieces of his Harry puzzle is finally in place, and he gets everything. He understands, he knows, he _gets it_. Why he used to be so terrible, why his mother is such a sensitive subject, why he was so provoked by Louis, why once he started making good deeds everything happened so quickly, because Harry was never bad, he was lost and he was hurting and he was traumatized and he was never _bad_.

And Louis thinks the absolute world of him. God, let it be too soon and too fast and too intense, but Louis’ never been one for taking his time or reject strong feelings and he loves Harry so, so much. He loves him. He drives Louis up the wall, and he’s proud, and cynical, and stubborn, and inflammatory, and Louis loves him. He’s gentle and careful and sensitive and honest and regardful, and Louis loves him.

…So there’s that.

“What are you thinking?” Harry mumbles, his cautious tone ripping Louis out of his deep thoughts.

Louis wonders if maybe he’s regretting telling Louis. If Harry’s uncomfortable, if he’s taken aback by Louis’ overwhelming emotions.

He really hopes that he’s not, and Louis closes his eyes.

“I’m thinking… That I’m really happy you’re not as big of a twat as I thought you were.”

He earns a snort from the spirit.

“Likewise.” There’s a smile in the way he forms his words and Louis is content. He gradually feels himself starting to drift off, the weight of the day’s events making itself known, and it would be quite nice to sleep. Really nice. So he resolutely crawls entirely on top of Harry, and he closes his eyes.

 

~

 

”Louis? Louis, wake up. Louis!”

“What?” Louis’ eyelids flutter as he stirs awake.

“Louis, wake up!”

“ _What_?”

Louis raises his head and chest from where he’s still perched atop of Harry, reacting on the urgent tone in the boy’s voice. His sleepy eyes meet Harry’s with confusion. He’d just barely fallen into his slumber, and he’s quite eager to make it last longer than like a minute.

“What’s going on?” Louis mumbles, starting to look around the room for any potential danger. “Is something wrong?”

“Louis,” Harry repeats. “I’m a horrible person.”

Louis’ brow furrows and he nails Harry to the pillow with his eyes.

“What?” he says for the third time in about thirty seconds. “Where did that come from?”

Harry looks pained, eyes ramming over Louis’ face and his mouth pursed.

“You know that day when we fell through the portal the first time?”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“No, completely slipped my mind,” he says and lies back down on Harry’s chest, pressing his cheek against his heart.

“Don’t bloody go back asleep!” Harry swats his arm. “This is important to me.”

“God, I wasn’t going to,” Louis locks his fingers together over Harry’s chest and props his chin up on them to be able to see Harry properly.

Of course he remembers that day. It feels so distant now, like it happened in a different time or space. He remembers thinking he’s never hated anyone more than he hates Harry Styles, remembers completely lashing out, remembers a malevolent Harry with cold in his eyes, remembers only ugliness and anger and not even a hint of this soft, distraught boy in bed with him right now.

“Louis, do you remember what I said to you that day?”

“Yeah.”

Harry whimpers like this is the worst thing he’s ever heard.

“I told you that you were never going to amount to anything,” he says, dread evident, and Louis grimaces. “I told you that you were nothing.”

“Jeez, Harry, not to rip open any old wounds or anything.”

“This isn’t the time for joking!”

Louis is quiet for a moment, watching the spirit underneath him and realizing how steady those green eyes are being, filled to the brink with sincerity.

“You’re… Actually torn up about that?” he questions tentatively.

“ _’Actually torn up_ ’—of course I am! I didn’t mean that. Please tell me you know I didn’t mean that.”

“I mean.” Louis scrunches up his nose and licks his lips. “I’m sure you did at the time. But I—“

“No, you don’t understand. I didn’t mean that.”

“Harry—“

“I literally cannot stress this enough.”

“Honestly, we both said awful things that day. If I still held a grudge about that, believe me when I tell you that you would be aware. Can we not agree to put that behind us?”

“No. It’s important to me that you know this.” Harry’s voice is so urging, and he suddenly sits up, causing Louis to yelp and cling onto Harry’s shoulders to keep himself upright, too. He scoots back a bit so that they can face each other while Harry’s talking.

“I didn’t ever mean any of that,” Harry says once again. “Not even then. I said it only because I knew that it’d trigger your worst insecurities—which is probably even worse—but it just hit me and I cannot go on with my day knowing that the possibility of you still thinking I thought that there is any form of truth behind those words exists.”

“I don’t—“ Louis bites the inside of his cheek meditatively. “I know you said it to hurt me. Didn’t have to mean you didn’t see it as truth, though.”

“I didn’t.”

“I quite got that.” Louis lets a small smile slip through in an attempt to soothe Harry a bit. “But as I said. That’s not you now. And let’s not forget how mean I was, either. We were both in the wrong.”

“But all you said was _true_ ,” Harry stresses. “That’s the thing. It was the harshest truth, but it was still the truth. I just spewed whatever bullshit I could come up with. _Unprovoked_.”

“Harry,” Louis tries again. He’s said it so many times since he woke up it starts feeling like an emotion rather than a name. “I’m a big boy. I could take it.”

“God, I know.” Harry bites his lip. “But I. Our conversation last night got me thinking back on that and then I couldn’t stop because I was that horrible for such a long time and I always thought you were really hard on me just to be a pain but fuck, Louis, you had every right to be because my kind of behavior was inexcusable and if it weren’t for you I’d probably still be caught in that. You’ve just. You’ve helped me so much and I owe you so many things and and it’s very, very vital to me that you know that I think you could conquer the world, if you’d want to. And I always did.”

Louis’ skin is burning up. He’s pretty sure that his heart is about to jump right up his throat and out of his body from how warm and explosive his ribcage is feeling from Harry’s words and Harry’s pleading stare on him, and he wants to laugh and cry and kiss Harry until his mouth is bruised and tiny fragments of Louis rest in the creases of his lips and Louis’ tongue knows the taste of Harry by heart.

He doesn’t do any of that—extremely surprisingly, because control of his body feels like a very foreign concept right now. He rather just sits there, watches and watches and watches as Harry looks down on his lap and purses his mouth in a way that Louis could bet is nervousness, and Louis holds entire galaxies inside his lungs.  

What Louis does, is to smile a small smile. He lifts a hand to lightly trace Harry’s defined jaw and it’s amazing, really, how completely enamored he is with this boy.

“I don’t think you need me to teach you how to be nice anymore,” he states.

“I’m not—“ Harry’s eyes are a bit more serene from Louis’ touch, but he still looks all too disgruntled for the fairy’s liking, so Louis quickly keeps going before Harry has the chance.

“I really want you to remember this moment right here the next time you feel like getting down on yourself, alright. Because when you realized your shitty behaviour you woke me up in the middle of the night to apologize, and when I realized _my_ shitty behaviour I attacked you in a club bathroom and called you a tank of fuckvermin. That’s a thing I did.”

Harry snorts, but he doesn’t protest and really—he doesn’t have a reason to. That was an admittedly bad move on Louis’ behalf.

“Also,” he continues, averting his gaze now. “I… didn’t have _every_ right to. I could’ve—I could’ve been more understanding. I didn’t know how much was on the line for you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Harry agrees. “So how could you’ve been more understanding?”

When Louis doesn’t answer, Harry just nods.

“So I just. Um, yeah. That was. That was what I wanted to say. Good talk.” 

He looks down on his hands. Now that his anxiety is wearing off he seems embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and Louis frowns at the mere thought, intertwining their fingers slowly.

(Somewhere along the line it’s become a natural thing to do. Louis isn’t complaining at all because Harry definitely has the nicest hands Louis’ ever known. His fingertips are always a bit cold against Louis’ knuckles and they’re so soft Louis feels like he’s holding silk.)

“I forgave you for that a long time ago,” Louis speaks quietly. “But it’s still really nice to hear you say it.”

Harry’s breathing is slowing down, going back to being deep and calming, and his shoulders slump in relief.

“Good. I—“ he nods to himself, “yeah. Good.”

He squeezes Louis’ hand back with a small smile, and Louis wants to jump and laugh and kiss him senseless and do anything to get rid of all this euphoric excess of energy he’s gotten from Harry’s words, but judging by how the sun is so soft and subtle from outside, it’s evidently still in the middle of the night. He can hear the faint playing of violins and the stomping of feet still, but that’s not too telling. Most nights the party goes on until the early hours of the morning.

He doesn’t feel like partying, though. He’d much rather stay here and have Harry all to himself.

So instead he climbs into Harry’s lap and pushes him down until he’s lying down again and Louis has his ear pressed to his heart.

“Thank you very much for professing your undying admiration for me, you know how it gets me going,” he states lightly, “but I was also quite enjoying that sleep and I think you should, too.”

Harry snorts, but he drapes an arm around Louis’ middle and nods.

“And for the record,” Louis adds as he closes his eyes. “I think you’re pretty lovely too, you loser.”

It feels like the start of something.

 

~

 

“I’m just saying,” Louis declares, looking up from the huge book currently opened in his lap to give the other boys a meaning look, “that _everything_ supports the theory of Zayn being Queen Patricia’s lost son.”

It’s another sunny afternoon, and the five boys are sitting under the big oak. The boys had mutually agreed to stay here as long as possible after that first night, the mission to help fixing the portals all but forgotten in the daydream-y joy of being and existing in the Forest. The sun is warm and solid on Louis’ legs and it’s comfortable and there’s no place he’d rather be than right here.

Niall bites his lip and nods in reply to Louis’ statement.

“It would explain a hell of a lot of things.”

“Exactly.” Louis nods. “Why Zayn is originally from Grimm, why he has golden hands, how he ended up on Earth, why he’s so extremely attractive…”

“What? Why would attractiveness have anything to do with this?” Zayn cuts in with a puzzled frown.

“All royalty in Grimm is stunningly beautiful. It’s just a fact, Zayn, keep up.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow and looks over to Harry.

“Should I question this?”

“I’d advise against it,” Harry says with a shrug. “This is a fairy-tale world, after all. Earth logic won’t fit no matter how much you want it to.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Have any of you ever read about an ugly prince or princess in Grimm stories?”

“I—“ Zayn starts, but stops to actually ponder this. “I don’t know, actually.”

It’s because there are none. Louis knows his Grimm royalty. He nods resolutely, and Harry groans.

“Honestly?” he says. “This world is shaped to please Earth human values, so why is this a surprise to anyone? Earth humans are the vainest creatures in all the universes, including Venus and Aphrodite—no offense, Niall.”

“None taken,” Niall says around an apple.

“Okay, but is it really, though?” Louis counters, tilting his head and pursing his mouth in thought. “Was Grimm created for Earth humans to believe in? Or were Earth humans created to believe in Grimm?”

“Grimm must’ve been created for Earth humans.” Harry states it like it’s a crystal-clear fact. “Earth humans needed to believe in magic, and Grimm was made to produce reason to believe.”

“But Grimm needs Earth humans to believe in their magic so why can’t Earth humans have been a product to fill that function?”

“I’m going to have an existential crisis and blame you both,” Liam deadpans.

Louis is about to quip something back at him, but at that exact moment something happens to petrify him in his tracks.

Something emerges from the oak’s portal. Some _one_.

The creatures is flung out on the ground before them on all four, but she quickly stands up and dusts off her elbows and knees. Her back straightens up to eye all of the boys, and Louis just keeps standing where he is, pretty sure he couldn’t even move if he wanted to.

The girl is infinitely beautiful, with the brightest eyes and softest hair and the most delicate hands, and Harry and she’s got a matching set of dimples and black coiling tattoos and—they’ve actually got a matching set of a lot of features.

Louis’ eyes narrow and his head whips to look at the spirit beside him as the realization slowly builds up inside him.

The, mildly put, shock on Harry’s face confirms Louis’ theory, marking it in stone when he further opens his mouth.

“ _Gemma_?”

Gemma swiftly looks around to get a proper grip of her surroundings before giving Harry a smirk.

“Long time no see, brother.”

_Brother._

The fact that Harry has siblings is a given that Louis’ been very aware of ever since he first got to know about Harry’s existence. It probably shouldn’t feel as bizarre as it does, to let his eyes scan this oh so beautiful, so alluring, so familiar face. But it _does._ It _does_ feel bizarre, to finally see such a blatant part of Harry’s world and Harry’s _history_ physically standing in front of him. It gets even more apparent when Harry subconsciously shuffles a little further away from Louis to make sure not to touch him in his sister’s presence, and Louis swallows.

All five boys are just gawking at the newly arrived. Harry looks like he’s about to pass out.

“What are you doing _here_?” he asks, forehead deeply wrinkled and eyes narrowing, and Gemma smiles sadly.

“I’m really, really sorry about this.”

Within the next two seconds, this happens:

Gemma grabs Louis by the arm and throws herself at the portal. Louis lets out a startled cry as Harry bolts forward and attaches himself to Louis’ other side. He tries to haul Louis back, but Louis is already dragged halfway into the portal and instead of Harry ending up winning the tug of war, he falls helplessly into it as well, into deceptive darkness and suffocating heat. The horrified shouts of Niall, Liam and Zayn ring in Louis’ ears way after they land. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry: talk dirty to me  
> louis: i care for u and feel safe around u.  
> harry: nuts  
> that's it that's the smut 
> 
> this chapter is like. lowkey gross but they're in LOVE and all that CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT amirite ??????
> 
> i listened a lot to 'bloom - the paper kites', 'sweet creature - harry styles' (he kicked my ass with this one), 'someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic' and 'i want you anyway - jon mclaughlin' while writing so if u want some nice music there u go ;) 
> 
> thank u SO MUCH for reading and for sticking with me and for commenting and giving kudos my heart grows twice its size every time it's the reason i sleep soundly at night xxxxxx as always u can find me on tumblr @tequiladimples and u can talk to me any time!! in any way!! bc i will shower u with love!! bc i love you!!


	25. chapter 23; tartaros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: fairly violent scene towards the end. there's no gore or anything, but it's still quite intense so if you are sensitive to that stuff be careful x

”Oh _no_.”

Harry’s voice is like a muffled white nose ringing in Louis’ ears. The kind of sticky, thick air surrounding them has him feeling faint and confused, and he rubs the back of his head with a grimace.

Gemma is completely vanished from the scene, Zayn’s book is lying beside him, and Harry is up on his feet, looking frantically around.

“No,” he keeps repeating. “No, no, no, _nononononon_ o—”

He turns back to Louis again, watching the fairy with complete, undisguised terror, and Louis stomach turns violently at seeing Harry, _Harry_ , this distressed.

“Where are we?” he mumbles, even though he already has an idea.

“You can’t be here,” Harry just breathes erratically, ignoring Louis’ question. “You can’t be here, _shit_.”

Despite Louis still being visibly weak and dazed, Harry takes him by the forearm and pulls him up from the ground. He keeps Louis closely tucked to his side as he starts walking with hurried steps, and Louis doesn’t quite know what to do except stumble along to wherever they’re going, droopy gaze following the dark wall on their left that whooshes by with every surge forward Harry takes. It’s hauntingly dented and dripping with a viscidity, like it’s crying from all the painful memories it holds, and Louis feels like it whispers to him, pleading for him to go back, to disappear and to save himself.

Tartaros. He knows it’s Tartaros. It’s evident in the dreadful humidity of the air, it’s evident in the rush of Harry’s steps knowing their exact way around the place—it’s evident in Harry’s fear. His jagged breathing and his desperate attempt at shielding Louis from all the thing capable of hurting him here.

Louis knows they’re in Tartaros and he knows he should probably be scared, too, but his head is too muffled and hazy to feel anything but confusion.

Harry finally stops when they reach a marble temple, the smooth stone tinted slightly from red shadows fleeing across its walls. They make something anxious stir in Louis’ belly when Harry tugs him inside, not stopping until they’re finally in a secluded, closed off area behind a solid door. Louis sits down on a silky smooth bed, trying to get his head to clear up. 

“Lou,” Harry crouches down so that they’re at the same level, his eyes scanning Louis’ face rapidly. “We’re in Tartaros, which means you’re going to have to be really, really careful. As in, you’re going to have to stay right here, while I look for a way for us to get out of here as quickly as possible. Can you do that?”

Louis frowns.

“I don’t—I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to be alone.”

Harry looks like someone’s twisting a knife in his stomach, and he shakes his head.

“You can’t come with me. If the wrong creature sees you, they’ll—you can’t come with me.”

“But.” Louis shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “But you made it sound like I’d be okay here. Back in Grimm, you said—”

“You won’t be okay here.”

“But I thought this place wouldn’t be dangerous if I was here with you.”

“That’s because I _lied_ , Louis.” Harry’s voice is too harsh and blunt, and Louis flinches. “I wanted to leave Grimm and I said what needed to be said to convince you. You shine too bright, Louis. Your presence is too innocent. The lost souls will sense that, and there’s no way they won’t want to destroy it.”

Harry isn’t soft, now. He’s all stress and lips bitten raw and bloodshot eyes, and Louis hates it. He doesn’t know how he ever handled Harry like this.

“But…”

“Listen to me.” Harry raises his hands to cup Louis’ face, making the fairy look him straight in the eye, and his fingertips are so warm against Louis’ cheekbones. “I’m going to do my best to keep you safe so we can get out of here, I _swear_ I’ll get you out of here. But you’re going to have to do exactly as I say, yeah?”

Harry’s intense greens stand in contrast to the blacks and the reds and the threatening greys surrounding them, and they feel like a lifeline to Louis. He nods slowly, not even blinking, scared that if he breaks that eye contact, he’s going to disappear into his own head.

“You’re going to have to stay here,” Harry continues. “I’ll be looking around to see which portal is the most easily accessible one. I’ll come right back to get you when I’ve found that out, okay? Can you stay here for me?”

He’s going to be honest—Louis doesn’t want to stay. The mere thought of being here by himself, without Harry to make him feel safe and to keep him awake, is making his blood run cold and his throat tighten hopelessly. He brings shaking hands up to lock around Harry’s wrists, holding them there in an attempt to convey how much he wants Harry to remain here with him, how much he needs Harry’s presence, hopes to whatever benevolent gods who might be listening that Harry will see how uneasy and heavy the dim, creeping light in here is making him.

When Harry’s expression shifts into something pained and a thumb starts stroking the soft skin under Louis’ eye soothingly, Louis think Harry probably already knows. He knows, he knows, and he has to go, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “This wasn’t meant to happen. I don’t know why it did, I don’t—”

“Thank you,” Louis interrupts lowly, because he doesn’t know what else to say to make Harry stop talking _and_ realize he shouldn’t be apologizing. “For coming here with me.”

It makes Harry’s features soften the tiniest bit, but his brow is still distressingly furrowed and there’s an ache embedded in his bottomless irises.

“I’m going to make this right,” he promises. “We’re going to be okay. I just… There’s a big risk I’m going to have to face my mother. She definitely already knows I’m here, what with Gemma and everything and—she just can’t see you, Louis. She can’t.”

Louis understands, he gets it, and so he just moves his hands from Harry’s wrists to rest them on Harry’s own hands, and squeezes for the longest of seconds.

“I’ll be here,” he says weakly, pushing a frail smile onto his face.

Harry lets his anxious gaze ghost over Louis’ face for a moment, and then leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It doesn’t last for longer than a couple of seconds, but it’s reassuring, it’s as steady as anything can be to Louis right now, and though he wishes it would last longer it still evens out his pulse just the tiniest.

And then Harry leaves, and Louis is left with the eerie silence.

Harry leaves, and Louis looks up just in time to see the shadows of approaching life playing on the walls.

Harry leaves, and someone else enters in his place.

 

~

 

Harry knows there’s a severely overweighing risk that he’s fucked.

This whole situation is still so endlessly confusing to him—how Gemma had even found them, how she’d dragged them right here without fail despite the broken portals, how she’d aimed for Louis and not for Harry—and he wishes he had time to stop and get an answer. But he doesn’t, right now. What he has time for, is to figure out a way to get himself, and more importantly Louis, out of here as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He can’t help but feel like the universe is taunting him. Laughing, snickering at him in the most condescending way. Tilting its head, saying ‘baby boy, you thought you could avoid this?’

And he had, hadn’t he? Walking around holding Louis’ hand and running fingers through Louis’ hair and tasting Louis’ lips like they were things he could just have without direct consequences. Like they’re natural experiences he deserves. He’s been stupid and ignorant, and knowingly so. He just didn’t think finally being met with the proximity of whatever consequences he’ll face would feel this filled with panic.

It’s too real now, he thinks as he smoothly makes his way to his mother’s temple, where he knows he’ll have the easiest access to a portal. It’s too close, the risk of Harry getting punished and Louis getting hurt, it’s all so tip toeingly near. It’s breathing down his neck and Harry wants to get as far away from it as he possibly can.

When he finally reaches the majestic, beautiful and towering building, he lightly sneaks in through the ornate door and prays so intensely that his mother will not be in there at this moment, just so he’ll have an excuse to not go through with their impending conversation.  

“Harry,” he hears his mother’s velvety voice call out before he’s even finished the thought, and he closes his eyes and grimaces. “Long time no see, darling.”

Fuck _dammit_.

But he knows there’s nothing he can do about it now, so he decides to go with it and try his best to get out of it quickly. She doesn’t know, he reminds himself. There’s no way she can know. He’s safe as long as he can keep his old act up and she doesn’t find Louis.

“Mother,” he greets, sauntering up to her, giving her a small nod of courtesy.

Not a lot has changed in there—to his left Harry sees her giant world map where she’d pin out the places for the most misfortune-ridden humans, to his right are the bars which the lost souls are trapped behind, reaching their hands out and mewling apocalyptically, and right in front of him is his mother perched upon her throne, smile menacing and insincere. She eyes him up and down for the longest time, and Harry notes that he isn’t happy to see her. He hasn’t missed her even a little bit. The overwhelming need to please her, to get appreciation from her doesn’t seem quite as important anymore, and it startles him a bit, but it’s not unwelcome.

The silence between them is slowly eating away at Harry’s nerves, and he has to clench his jaw and fists to remain seemingly unbothered.

“How do you like my work? It’s good, wouldn’t you say?” Eris asks at last, and the wicked pride in her eyes has always been a thing Harry longed for and admired, but now it makes his stomach turn.

“Excellent,” he utters quietly. “Chaos is everywhere.”

“So according to plan, then.” Eris nods, satisfied with herself, and leans back in her chair.

Harry is silent for a beat. This is his chance, he realizes, to find out exactly how his mother succeeded with all of this. It’s been a dream, an aspiration, a plan of hers for years, Harry’s known for a very long time, but it was a plan filled with obstacles. No matter how much and intensely Eris searched, she couldn’t affect their powerhouse in any way at all. If Harry needs to converse with his mother before getting the fuck out of this place, he can at least try to get something out of it.

“How did you do it?” he asks, hoping his breathlessness comes off as eager admiration.

Eris’ head perks up just the slightest, a new sort of light in her face now, as if excited to tell him just how genius she’s been. Because Harry doesn’t doubt that she’s been genius. She _is_ a genius, his mother. Cunning and scheming and always a slight step ahead of everyone else.

“They key, is the electricity bonds,” she starts slowly, confirming their theory in one swift second. “Those were what I wanted to be able to put my hands on. And you’re aware I tried.” She pauses and shakes her head. “For years and years, I searched for a way to put them out of balance, but to no avail. No one but the Gods of lightning can touch it—the Leaders made sure of that when they created this system, and there are no exceptions or loopholes at all. Which only left me with one choice, really. I had to get a Leader under my command.”

A Leader. Just like Thor said, there must’ve been a Leader involved—

Harry whistles lowly and forces out an impressed smirk, ignoring the churning of his stomach.

“And you managed that? All by yourself?”

Eris’ dark eyes just glimmer with satisfaction.

“Not all by myself. I had a little help.”

She makes a dramatic pause and Harry just gives her a raised eyebrow to urge her on. She’s really taking her sweet time with this, he thinks. But he also supposes that if she has in fact managed to make a Leader—Zeus, presumably—her inferior? Then this is most definitely her biggest achievement since the Trojan war. Harry guesses it’d make sense for her to want to build the suspense.

“As it turns out... Aphrodite hates Zeus almost as much as I do.”

She finally speaks, and it comes out as a purr seeping through her grin.

“ _Aphrodite_?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “But she’s a goddess of Olympus.”

“She is,” Eris agrees. “She’s the most beautiful goddess of Olympus who Zeus condemned to an unhappy, unsatisfying marriage with an unattractive man around for the rest of her existence, and, well. Do you blame her when she says she’d do anything to get back at him?”

Harry supposes he doesn’t. It makes sense that Aphrodite would see it as the biggest possible destruction of her character to be first of all tied down to one person, and secondly tied down to a person she resents.

“So, when I visited her and told her about my plan, about my way to get Zeus under my control, to make him inferior… She was more than willing to help me,” Eris continues. “She supplied me with the strongest love potion she had. All I had to do was talk Zeus into having a meeting with me on my grounds and slip it into his wine, and so that’s what I did—for being a Leader he really is pathetically easy to fool. He’s stayed with me here ever since. If it makes me happy, he obeys my every last wish. It’s quite nice, really. To have that loyalty even if it’s artificial.”

Harry has to admit—she’s _good_. Like, genuinely seriously good. He understands just why it’s always been so easy for him to have such respect for her. Not just anyone makes bewitching a Leader sound like a piece of cake.

“So you made Zeus retract his electricity bond and now you hold him hostage here?”

Eris shrugs.

“If you want to put it that way, yes. That was the intention. But do you know what I realized, then, when I finally had Zeus? That was even better than merely having the power to break the portals?”

She raises her eyebrows expectantly like she wants Harry to answer, and Harry only shakes his head in small motions. Eris’ smirk widens.

“I have the power to _control_ the portals. I can connect portals to whatever places I want to. I can purposely make creatures travel to the worst imaginable places, and since he’s also all seeing, I can keep an eye on exactly what results my work has, in whatever world I want to. I can relish in every piece of chaos I cause. I don’t just have the power over Zeus—I have the power over everything he has power over. I have access to everything.”

 _Hold on_.

Something carefully clicks in Harry’s head at that revelation, and his eyes narrow slowly. Eris just looks at him, endlessly satisfied with herself.

“You’ve been on quite the trip, haven’t you? What world did you find the most enjoyable? I reckon my personal favorite was Wonderland. You were very inventive.”

Yeah, there it is, and Harry can’t help a shaky, low gasp as he connects the dots.

“You— _you_ ’ _re_ the one who’s been sending us places?” he clarifies, and a cold kind of thrill starts pressing down on his head as he slowly realizes what this could mean.

“So smart,” Eris smacks her lips appreciatively. “I was waiting for you, right here, all along. But you didn’t seem to have any intentions to move from that hideous forest, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

It makes perfect sense, is the worst thing of all. Really, how foolish has it been of the boys to believe that they just magically kept ending up in the _exact_ place they needed to end up in every time they used a portal? That they never ended up in the same universe twice? That they managed to pick up Liam, Niall and Zayn along the way, in that precise, convenient order?

No one has that much luck. Eris has been playing with them this entire time, and Harry is gradually feeling more and more like throwing up.

“But…” he struggles. “ _Why_?”

He earns yet another nonchalant shrug back.

“I wanted to see for how long you and that obnoxious fairy could stand each other before you snapped and, well. Finished him. It was a fun experiment, if you will. After all, you’re my most ruthless offspring. Who was I to deny myself a show like that?” She looks up from her nails to fix Harry with a look, and there’s something hardening in her black eyes now. It chills Harry to the core. “Ended up getting a whole different kind of show, didn’t I?”

So she knows.

Harry can’t do anything but stand petrified in his place as the realization of this settles deep in his bones, knots around his heart and crowds his lungs. His mother knows, she’s known this whole time. She’s aware of what Harry’s been doing with Louis, what he’s been doing _for_ Louis, what he’s been feeling and every single betrayal he’s executed, she knows all of it.

Harry has known quite a bit of fear in his life, but the intense, throat-clogging kind of horror he’s feeling in this moment is a definite and agonizing first. His hands are tingling and he opens and closes his mouth over and over, desperately searching for something, anything to say, but can there possibly be words suitable for a situation like this?

“I—Mother,” he tries, chuckling weakly. “It’s all been an act, surely you can’t think I’d _actually—_ ”

“Oh, _please_. Do you not think I see how you’re glowing?” she snarls, upper lip curled in disgust. “Do you not think I can recognize it when my own son is starting to drift to the weak?”

Harry can’t even answer, his lips parted around a thousand empty breaths as his thoughts crash and scream and pounce inside his head. Eris’ face is so rigid he can feel the hairs on his arms stand up, and he’s positive he’s never felt more lost in his life.

“Out of all my children, I never thought you’d be the one standing in front of me, bitten raw by _benevolence_. It’s repulsive, Harry. It’s sickening.”

With his fists clenched so tightly his nails are digging into the flesh of his palms, Harry tries to keep his breathing from going erratic and panicked.

“Mother,” he just tries again, and it’s supposed to sound reproachful, but it comes out more as a plea.

“You don’t know how much I hoped that it would be a scheme, Harry.” Eris doesn’t even react in the slightest to Harry’s anxiety, eyes still etched onto him like two threatening abysses waiting to take him down. “I hoped it would be a plan of yours to rip him apart. It would’ve been genius, really. But alas, I should’ve known that despite everything I’ve done to lead you onto the right path, you still weren’t smart enough not to fall into the trap. I should’ve given up on you already when you were a little kid and talked about flying among the clouds and _love_ like they were things to desire.”

The worst thing is that Harry can’t even defend himself. He has no words, he desperately wishes he had, but he doesn’t. There’s nothing he can think of to say that could possibly get him out of this figurative chokehold his mother has him in right now.

And when he looks into Eris’ eyes, it’s clear that she knows this, too.

“Still, I hoped. I made a mistake, and I hoped. I’ve always hoped for you. When you were young and wouldn’t shut up about your dreams, I hoped. When you took twice as long as everyone else to mend after the Ceremony, I hoped. Because at the end of it, you delivered, didn’t you? You became my best worker. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt countless times, and I’ve been right to. I think you just need a reminder of where you belong, wouldn’t you agree?”

No, Harry wouldn’t. Not even close, not ever, under any circumstances. He’s never going to agree with anything his mother says ever again as long as he exists.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell her.

Suddenly rock-solid hands grip tightly on Harry’s forearms and holds him in his place, and when he furiously tries to wrench out of the grip, he finds himself helpless and all too weak. He knows it’s his older siblings holding him there, he can feel the density of their fingers against his skin and he knows he can’t escape that, but that’s not why he suddenly has his heart in his throat.

It’s because if he needs to be forcibly held back, only one thing can follow.

And then the door to the temple is being thrown open, and another group of his ominous siblings enter. The sight of them approaching him hasn’t ever made Harry scared in his life, because he’s always known he’s above them, has always known he’s safe from their endless quarrels.

But the thing is, that before this, Louis hasn’t ever been in the center of their harsh hands, looking way to small and shining way too bright in comparison to the smoky, suffocating auras of the other spirits.

He is now.

He is now, and Harry has never feared his siblings, but in this moment he fears them so overwhelmingly he feels like he’s going to be ripped in half.

“Mother. What are you doing?”

He wants to sound demanding, but his throat is suddenly dry as a desert and the words just barely squeeze their way out. Louis looks disoriented and breakable , and Harry’s arteries are cramping.

“Did you genuinely think you could hide him? Here?” Eris’ tone is bordering on mocking by now. “You can sense his light from miles away, Harry. Such a pretty thing, though, he is, I’ll give you that. I wonder if he’ll be as pretty after the souls have him.”

One mention of the souls, and the breath is punched out of Harry’s lungs.

She can’t.

She _can’t_.

“Mother. You can’t do this.” Iciness is sloshing through his body from his toes and up to his stomach up to his chest up to his throat up to his tongue up to his head and it’s petrifying his heart and it’s aching his brain and all Harry can do is _plead_. “Mother, you need to let him go. You need to let him go right now, you have to let him leave, you can’t—”

His mother just watches his anxiety, pursing her mouth and shaking her head grimly.

“Desperation doesn’t become you, Harry,” is all she says, but her voice is colder than it’s ever been and her back is more rigid than before.

Harry knows he fucked up even more by begging her for mercy, by begging at all. He knows he shouldn’t have done that. He knows that this was supposed to be a test of loyalty, that this is Eris giving him the benefit of the doubt once again by offering him a chance to choose her instead of Louis.

Maybe if he didn’t know his mother as well as he does, he’d try and pretend to choose her. To make her release Louis. But he does know his mother well, and he knows that she’s just as prone to hurting Louis if Harry plays along as she is if Harry doesn’t. He knows that there’s nothing that’ll truly work to make her release the fairy.

So he begs, and he begs, and he begs. Because it’s all he has the power to do. Because putting on an act wouldn’t mean shit. Because he’s sure in this moment he doesn’t even have the ability to put on an act anymore.

“Listen to me, this isn’t—you can’t just—I’m the one who’s in the wrong here, mother. Why aren’t you punishing _me_?”

“Oh, honey.” Eris smiles at him, but it’s hard and wicked and it only makes Harry’s hands tremble. “I _am_ punishing you.”

And then she turns away from him and to his siblings still holding Louis in place.

Time doesn’t pass for an eternity.

“Release them,” she just utters, and Harry’s knees buckle right as the giant bars fall, leaving the way free for the lamenting creatures to do the worst possible damage they can.

They’re emerging, hazy and dark and terrifying and all at once, their desperate wailing like a haunting anthem. The strong grip on Harry’s arms is fast and steady no matter how hard he tries to twist his way out of it, and he’s left being able to do nothing but watch as they close in on Louis’ bright, small figure like an eclipse closing in on the all too brightly shining moon.

See, the thing with the lost souls is that they’re always deprived—deprived of life, of happiness, of light and love and spirit and dreams. They whine and cry all night through about the lives they’ve lived and ruthlessly lost, and their nostalgia is starving them. They’re always starving.

The starving makes them feverish. Erratic. Hysterical, desperate, inhumane.

Destructive.

Harry catches a glimpse of Louis’ panicked face before the wretched darkness envelops him, and after that he can only see the souls’ arms in grabbing, harsh motions and their backs arching and their frantic hissing bouncing against the temple walls like demon-clad arrows. Harry can’t help the anguished cry leaving his lips at the sight, and no matter how hard he tries, how violently he yanks his limbs or how intensively he tries using his powers, he can’t move. Forced into his spot, he can’t do anything but watch with rapidly blurring vision and _plead_ until he can’t even tell words apart anymore.

Harry knows they aren’t killing him. The souls’ purpose isn’t to kill, it’s always to take, to steal, but Harry knows, he _knows_ that when they do, you’d rather them aim for murder. Death is preferable to feeling their nails bore into your skin and their fingerprints squeeze into your pores and their gasps sucking the air out of your lungs.

And they claw. They claw, they scratch, they tug and yank and they rip, rip, rip, and Harry can’t see what they’re clawing, what they’re ripping, what they’re _ruining_ , until he notices the dishevelled pieces of thin, spun silver singling down onto the rough ground.

His heart wrenches into a crumpled piece of lifeless flesh as it drops down to his stomach.

Louis’ screams echo throughout the temple, the most excruciating soundtrack to every single one of Harry’s future nightmares, as the souls continue to dull his light. Their mouths are wide open and heaving, swallowing pieces of Louis’ spirit with every sharp, hacky inhale.

“Please,” Harry gasps, his whole body trembling. He has no pride or fear for his mother left now, the only thing he wants is for them to let Louis go, to stop hurting him, to stop tearing at him, to stop, stop, _stop_. “Please, mother, tell them to stop. Please tell them to go, _please_ make them leave him alone—do this one thing for me and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’m asking you as your _son_ , I’ll do whatever you want, just— _mom_.”

Eris’ face is stern with icy indifference, and she doesn’t dignify him with a single look as she pointedly, slowly, leans back in her chair.

“You are no son of mine.”

Louis doesn’t stop screaming, and Harry’s life crumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this uh. yikes. i'm really, really sorry. 
> 
> things were goin too great my friends n we just can't have nice things today i'm sorry
> 
> this update took a lil while bc 1. i've been absolutely DROWNING in school work and 2. this is a kinda important chapter and i've been very picky with how to write it. but it's here now!!! even though it's a terrible one!!! AND i'm on summer break with basically nothing to do outside from a couple of weeks of work, so i'm dead set on Finishing This Thing. (even tho i will cry when i do bc this fic has been my baby for YEARS)
> 
> as always, kudos and comments make me the happiest most grateful and moved person in the entire world and you can always come and talk or yell at me on my tumblr @tequiladimples. thank you so, so much for reading and for sticking with the story i love you forever xxxxxxxxxx


	26. chapter 24; the darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mentions of blood and descriptive treatment of wounds. it's all in the first half of the chapter if you wanna skim or skip xx

Louis doesn’t feel.

The whole thing goes by as a red blur to him. It’s a never-ending stream of _I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die_ and then all of a sudden they’re dragging him out of there and away and away, Harry’s trembling body right behind him and Louis doesn’t know if he’s not in pain anymore or if he’s just finally become numb to it but then it’s _I didn’t die I didn’t die I didn’t die I didn’t die I didn’t die I didn’t die I didn’t die_ and at last they stop by a portal in the darkest, smallest room in the deepest part of Eris’ temple, and they just throw Louis in there and Louis doesn’t even do anything as he falls, falls, falls.

(He’ll always fall from now on, he thinks.)

And then finally, he hits the ground. The place is lit up only by the faint light from the portal which is perched several feet up in the air, all too far out of reach. Everything around him is black. It’s like he’s fallen into an endless pit of shapeless darkness. It doesn’t even terrify him.

And now it’s _why didn’t I die? Why didn’t I die? Why didn’t I die?_

Harry lands right after him, a soft whimper escaping his lips as he hits the ground, and Louis thinks that in some way he should be able to find peace knowing Harry hasn’t left, that he isn’t all alone. But there’s still a swelling burn etched into his back like a thousand needles being pressed into his pores, and there is still a hot wetness running down his back and slicking his shirt to his skin, and the blurred sting stretching in an empty V on his back so stubbornly reminding him of what used to be there, and it’s too overpowering. It’s all he can focus on.

Louis is not alone, but in this moment, he thinks he might as well be.

He slowly pulls his knees up to his chin as his eyes set on a spot of nothingness a few inches before him, and he can hear Harry move behind him, can see him in the corner of his eye when the spirit drags his body closer to Louis’.

Harry’s not touching him, hands tightly fisted and tucked against his body like he’s scared reaching out and brushing fingertips against Louis’ skin would make Louis worse. Louis is glad he doesn’t. He wouldn’t want Harry touching him now, when his skin is still crawling with toxicity and loss, when the impurity is still sloshing through his veins.

“Louis.” Harry’s voice is thin but urgent, and it sounds like he’s speaking through a tunnel. “Louis, you can’t give up now. You can’t do that. You’re not doing this, you’re hurting and I know, god, I _know_ , but you can’t give into it. I know how much this feels like the end of the world, but it’s not, Louis, you can’t give up on me now. We can’t make all of this to be in vain, and it’s going to be in vain if you don’t—oh my god, you need to get up again. I know you need time to grieve, I know, I understand, but you can’t do it here because once you let go this place is never going to let you come back up. It’s going to consume you. _Lou_.”

Louis doesn’t feel.

He knows he should speak, knows he should reach out and calm Harry down, knows that hearing Harry sound as agonizingly pleading as he does now should send ice cold, stabbing shivers throughout Louis’ entire body and fill him with an impulse to make it go away immediately.

But it doesn’t. 

Because Louis’ body still doesn’t feel like a body. His whole being is an open wound and he’s scared that taking words into his mouth might cut into him deeper, like moving might infect him further. Every breath he’s taking twists his chest and wrenches his lungs and he’s bleeding onto the ground and down his pants and his shirt is rubbing against his ripped flesh in a way that makes him feel unreal. He can’t react. Harry wants him to, but he can’t. Not right now.

There’s no point to it. Harry says that this place might never let him come back up, but with the way Louis is feeling right now he’s going to be drowning no matter where he is.

So he keeps being unresponsive, and at last, Harry gives up, too. He shifts from where he’s been kneeling in front of Louis, and sits down next to him, putting his hands down behind him to support his torso and pulling his knees up against his chest. And they sit there. In complete and dejected silence, they just sit.

Louis doesn’t feel, and times doesn’t pass, and he doesn’t move.

 

~

 

Harry would give anything, _anything_ , to not have Louis know what this feels like.

Because Harry knows, is the thing. He’s known for a long time. He knows the exact way your skin crawls and your heart sinks and your body aches, he knows about the humiliation and the stripping of self-worth and dignity, he knows all about the pain and the dejection and silent kind of panic that follows. But if there’s anyone—anyone—in the world, that he’d want to save from this at all costs; it’d be Louis. The astounding light this boy always carried is the one thing Harry would never want harmed.

And he’d failed. He’d _failed_ , and it kills him to know that the way Louis is now, dulled edges and empty eyes, is essentially his fault. He’s been stupid to think that his own infatuation wouldn’t end up affecting Louis just as fatally as himself. He’s been selfish. He’s been ignorant.  

Louis hasn’t uttered a single word since they got here. The only real interaction they’ve had so far was when Harry took off and ripped up his own t-shirt to bind around Louis’ torso in an attempt at dampening the bleeding on his back. At first Louis had refused that too, somehow closing in on himself even more at the idea of Harry being that close, and that alone had almost sent Harry into hysterics again as he tried to convey just how important it was to treat his wounds in the moderation they can (“I know you don’t care right now, but _I care_ , I care about you and I care about whether you live or die, so _please_ may I try to stop you from losing more blood?”). Louis still didn’t speak, but he did let Harry touch him then, weakly lifting his arms above his head to signify that it’s okay.

Overall, it’s a fucking disaster and Harry knows he needs to try and keep his hope because Louis is understandably not in the place to do that right now, but it’s—it’s so hard. They’re thrown into some kind of lifeless prison, his mother has disowned him and hurt Louis in the worst way possible, Louis is being barely responsive and Harry has no idea how to make him be that or how to get out of here, and if they against all odds manage do get back to Tartaros, how in the world are they going to escape Eris _again_?

None of them know how much time is passing—it could be an hour, a day, a week—the only thing reminding Harry that time is still in fact passing, is his increasing hunger.

Which. They don’t have food. They don’t even have _water_.

And Harry is so, so tired. He’s allowed to feel a little hopeless right now.

Finally allowing himself to try to relax and give Louis space, he lowers himself to ground level in the hopes of at least, _at least_ , getting some rest.

That exact moment is when suddenly, a soft, whooshing sound is heard from the portal, and he snaps his head up before he’s even had the chance to properly lie down, just in time to see a tightly wrapped package cut through the air and land with a heavy thud a few feet away.

A few seconds pass, as neither Harry nor Louis moves. Harry doesn’t even think Louis reacted at all on the out of context gift, and he himself is a bit scared. It could be from his mother, holding something meant to cause them even more harm. It could be dangerous.

But it could also be something that can help them. It _could_ be, and Harry’s lost enough of his survival instinct to feel like it’s worth it to open it. So in the end he lets out a sharp and jagged exhale, and stumbles up to grip the package, praying so intensely it’s somehow going to contain something that’s to their benefit.

He rips it open and just turns it upside down, and a few seemingly harmless items fall out.

Firstly, there’s _food_. There are a couple of apples and some cut up watermelon safely tucked into plastic boxes, as well as sandwiches and two bottles of water. Harry’s mouth is watering, not until now fully realizing just how gut-twistingly hungry he actually is.

Secondly, there’s Zayn’s book. Harry runs his fingers lightly over the cover, tracing the golden, capital letters of the title. “Mythology of the Universes – a Complete Guide”. A spark of something he’s too afraid to call hope but feels might be very close to it flickers in his bones as he realizes maybe this book could at least tell him their location.

Thirdly, there’s a first aid box.

And lastly, there’s a note. It’s folded neatly and delicately, and when Harry opens it with shaky fingers he immediately recognizes the elegant, swoopy handwriting.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you accept these gifts as a sort of apology. You know by now that mother sent me to lure you and your fairy here, and though I did figure she would want to give some sort of punishment, I could never in my wildest dreams imagine that she would go this far. You were always her favorite, after all. I was sure she’d spare you._

_I also had no idea how much the fairy meant to you. If I had I would’ve helped you immediately. The moment I realized this made you suffer to the point it did, I cannot describe how wrong the whole thing felt. Something I at first felt proud to have been chosen by mother to do now makes me sick with guilt just by thinking of. Everything I’ve ever wished for you is happiness, and if anyone deserves to reclaim it, it’s you. I cannot believe I helped standing in the way of it once you finally appear to have found it._

_I sadly have no idea how you escape the place mother banished you to, but I sent along that handy book of yours in the hopes that it can help you clear things up. I also sent along some food, and I will continue to do so as often as I can, and the first aid is for the fairy as I can imagine his wounds to be quite nasty. If I can’t physically help you get out of there, the least I can do is to help you stay alive until you figure something out for yourselves. It also said in the book that fairies from the Forest mainly feed on fruits and greens, so I tried to include some. I hope he can find it in himself to eat._

_I guess the bottom line is, you’re my baby brother and I’ll always look after you. I’m so sorry from the very depths of my heart that this happened and it pains me that I had a vital part in it. I wish I could tell you this in person. I hope I’ll be able to eventually, and I hope you’ll be able to forgive me._

_Gemma._

Gemma.

Harry is almost feeling his eyes water again—a mixed result from the restlessness and the hopelessness, and a quivering sort of gratefulness for his sister.

They’d always been particularly close, him and Gemma. She belongs to the first group of pain spirits which makes her older, and she’d always taken care of him throughout his rocky, to say the least, childhood. She’d made sure he’d be okay through all the vicious treatment, and apart from Eris, she’d always been the one person Harry thought himself to trust. That factor had made the betrayal of bringing him and Louis here sting so much more—he’d lost both his mother and his sister.

But as he reads the letter a second time, a third time, he gets her, and he knows that he’s going to forgive her. There’s not a lot Gemma can do for him when he’s here and she’s up there, but she’s doing all she can.

That’s enough. It’s enough for now.

A few shaky breaths later to pull himself together, he looks over to Louis. The fairy still sitting in the same spot and Harry’s pretty sure he’s not about to move anytime soon, so he picks up the stuff and scoots over to him.

“Lou,” he tries gently. “Look what Gemma sent us.”

He places the book carefully in front of the still unmoving boy, pushing it so close that it nudges Louis’ toes. Louis throws a swift glance at it, but he doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t make any attempts at picking the book up.

“I think it tells us where we are. Right—” Harry reaches forward to open the book on the page Gemma’s folded in the corner. “Right here. Do you want to read it? You could read it to me if you want, I know how you… How you love this stuff. Knowing things. Telling things. Would you feel like doing that?”

Harry tilts his head and crouches down closer to the spot on the ground that currently occupies Louis’ attention in an attempt at catching his eye, but Louis still sits right where he is. His knuckles are white from gripping around his knees. His stare is blank and hooded. It takes Harry absolutely everything in him to maintain a composed exterior, because his mind is on the verge of frenetic every passing second that the boy keeps being unresponsive like this.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, mentally shaking himself, and he takes the book into his own lap. “I can read to you, if that’s better. I’ll read it.”

And so he sits down cross-legged in front of Louis, and starts to read from the marked page.

 

_ Tenebra / Σκοτος / Mörker _

_In the deepest parts of every Underworld universe, all ends meet in an especially secluded place built up essentially of a dark nothing. Its name differs depending on what world you’re in, but they all mean the same—commonly, it’s called the Darkness._

_To call the Darkness a universe on its own is contradicting. It is a completely separate place—it’s not a part of something else, and you need a portal to get there, so by definition it is its own world. But the place isn’t alive. It does not contain its own eco system, and this is why it’s simultaneously questionable to call it a world, since the whole purpose of the place is to be dead and void of everything that would make it one. This is instead where you send your most fatal sinners. As the place is lacking anything alive except the creatures deliberately sent there, most will sooner or later wither away from dehydration and starvation. Simply put, it serves as a subtle but cruel death sentence._

_Once an item is sent there, it’s nearly completely irretrievable. This is because, most easily explained, the Darkness’ portals are like a slightly limited version of your average two-way portal. The portal_ to _the Darkness is always available, but transferring yourself_ back _from there is a completely different story. The portal must be activated from the other side by a source of new life. And considering what we’ve just established about growth and life within the Darkness, somehow producing a new creature and getting it to come in contact with the portal is without a doubt complicated._

 

Well. Fuck.

Harry closes the book, biting the inside of his cheek and his eyes returning to Louis’ face. His heart skips faintly when he noticed that the fairy has moved a little—just the tiniest bit—to face him, his eyes flicking between Harry’s and the ground for a bit. 

“So,” Harry says weakly. “I presume neither of us has a womb.”

Louis just purses his mouth and shakes his head slightly. It was a really bad attempt at being light, Harry knows, but he doesn’t quite know how else to deal with the fact that they now know _where_ they are, but they also practically got it confirmed that there’s no way they can actually get out of here.

The thought makes Harry’s lungs tighten, so he swallows several times, and he supresses whatever this means. Gemma will help them stay alive. They’re not going to die from starvation. That’s at least something, he figures, and also what he chooses to focus on. Desperately blocking out every piece of dreadful hopelessness threatening to find its way into his heavy bones, he clears his throat to speak again.

“She also sent, um.” He scrambles for the first aid box, undoing the caps and opening it to find gauze pads, bandages, cleansing wipes and water, a couple of tweezers, gloves, needles, and some thread. Gemma’s done this before, and she’s visibly been as thorough as she could. “For your wound. It’s—it’s very important that we treat it.”

Louis does reacts to that, just like last time the suggestion of Harry touching him in any way was brought up, and he snaps his head up to properly look at Harry, and Harry can directly see that he’s not at all open to that concept.

He gets it, though. Harry was the same when he went through this. Gemma was the one who’d made sure his wounds mended correctly, and though she couldn't help him in giving him the time and space he needed to heal because he was forced out to work so immediately after, she’d been trying her hardest to soften the blow and was the one thing making Harry able to somewhat get back on his feet after his particularly rough wing ripping. Harry wants nothing more than to be for Louis what Gemma was for him and more. He wants to give Louis that time. 

“I know,” he says, biting his lip loosely but maintaining sincere eye contact. “I know. But I’ll be really, really careful. No more touching than necessary. It’s just—you need it cleaned up, Lou. Gemma’s going to help us stay alive here, she’s promised, and a vital part to keeping you alive is to treat your wounds. And it would mean so much to me if you would let me do that? Will you please let me do that?”

Seconds pass as Louis just looks at him, hooded blues conflicted, and Harry breathes through his nose to not become impatient. Louis needs time. He needs time, and Harry will give him time. With everything.

It does the trick, too, as Louis finally releases a tiny sigh and nods.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles, settling down behind him and slowly starting to undo his previous bandage. He’s as gentle and mild as he possibly can, making his fingertips fleeting.

He grimaces as soon as the torn, soaked t-shirt falls to the ground and Louis’ wounds are revealed to him again. The most excessive bleeding has stopped by now, but the V on his back is still gaping and glaring red, and even though Harry’s seen far worse in his life, his stomach still flips uncomfortably. He determines that he’s going to need to suture them instead of just bandaging.

“Okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady and calm while he snaps on a pair of gloves. “I’m going to clean it up first. I can’t see any dirt or anything I have to remove separately from your wounds, which is really good, so I’m just first going to use the cleaning wipes and then I’ll wash it with water.”

While speaking, he picks up the pack of wipes, tearing one out and starting to move it in careful, swift motions around the wounds. There’s quite a bit of dried blood smeared onto Louis’ back, and he focuses on getting all of that off before fully focusing on the actual injury. He makes sure to put the used tissues behind him and not within Louis’ sight, too, as the number of used wipes grow. Louis doesn’t need to see the actual impact of the attack on him. Not yet.

Louis doesn’t say a word during the process either, barely even moves or fidgets at all as even as he lets Harry work. When Harry asks him to lay on his stomach for a moment, he complies without a single word or other form of protest. He lets Harry pour the lukewarm water over his back even though it must sting unbelievably, until Harry considers the wound completely clean from any possible impurities.

“Now, if you could sit up again, please,” Harry speaks again. “This is going to hurt a bit. Your wounds are pretty deep, so I’m going to have to stitch them together. If it hurts more than you can take, please yell at me or pinch me really hard or whatever you want, okay?”

The way Louis’ spine stiffens at Harry’s words tells Harry what he needs to know, and he brings his hand up to infinitely mildly stroke the smooth skin right where Louis’ neck and shoulder meet.

“It’s okay, Lou,” he mumbles. “I’ll be careful. It’ll be over soon. Just try to relax, please?”

It takes a while to get him to fully do it, but soon enough Harry is able to start stitching the wounds together. He breathes profoundly as he forces his hands not to shake, impaling Louis’ skin with the small, provided needle. He does this best to not think of it as skin, to imagine it being just a rare piece of fabric or something else not attached to another living creature, distancing himself from the context of the whole situation to avoid feeling sick with guilt knowing that inevitably, he put Louis here.

Louis does hiss at a number of occasions, for which Harry apologizes profusely every time, but other than that, the fairy’s being pliant and silent and patient. Harry would feel better about that if he didn’t know that if Louis were himself he’d complain and lament and throw insults at him every two seconds.  

“Now,” Harry starts when he finally finishes up the stitches, pushing his fringe back with the back of his hands in relief. “That should do it. Be careful with it, yeah? Don’t put your shirt back on, it’s—it’s dirty and I want to be on the safe side. Are the wounds feeling manageable?”

He receives another nod from Louis, and Harry knows it’s all he’s going to get, so he settles for that. He’ll check up on the wound from time to time, to make sure nothing is looking sketchy. He has this under control.

“Now that that’s done,” he says, “are you hungry? Gemma sent food, too.”

Louis purses his mouth, and shakes his head in small, swift motions. Harry didn’t expect anything else, really, but he needs to ask. Louis needs to have the choice.

So he places the container with watermelons and a sandwich together with a bottle of water by Louis’ side anyway.

“In case you change your mind. You should at least try to drink some water, yeah?”

Louis nods, and then slowly lies down—endlessly carefully, and on his stomach—with his head turned away from Harry. Harry just gives out a dejected sigh, but decides to leave it. Give him time, he repeats to himself. Give him time.

(Louis does drink water later after tossing and turning for a bit, emptying almost the entire bottle in one go. Harry considers that a win for today.)

 

~

 

Time passes. They don’t know how fast, but it must pass somehow.

Gemma keeps her promise, and what Harry would guess is once a day, there are new packs of necessities falling through the portal—one time she sends them clean clothes which is greatly appreciated—even Louis startles a little then to cover his until now bare skin with a soft sweater and Harry considers it a good moment. She sends full meals, meats and potatoes and rice and soups and even a pastry or two, she sends water and milk and wine, and she sends fruits and vegetables. Always so much fruits and vegetables, and Harry understands that that’s her way of caring for Louis and supporting Harry’s relation to him. It never fails to leave Harry’s ribcage a little warm, despite the underlying hopelessness of their situation.

Harry always eats and drinks, and he always prepares portions for Louis. He makes sure the fairy always has a water bottle and he even arranges the food to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible, because he thinks that might be something Louis would like, and he always tells the fairy what exactly it is that he’s being given in an as gentle and inviting way as he possibly can.

It never works. Apart from a bit of water here and there, an apple on a good day, Louis barely even looks at the food. The pile of leftovers slowly going bad by his side just grows, but Harry is determined not to touch any of it. He never stops offering more, either. No matter what Louis does or doesn’t do, he must always be aware that the option is there for him. That Harry is there for him.

Because Louis is suffering. It’s so blatantly obvious in every single way, from his continuous silence, to the flinching when Harry comes to close, from his nightmares that wakes them both up with their hearts in their throats, to the way he’s always scratching at the small wounds on his arms and legs as if he’s trying to peel them off. From his non-existent appetite to his empty gaze. There’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Louis is experiencing a tremendous amount of pain, and if there’s anything Harry can do to relieve it just the tiniest bit, he’s going to do it.

The thing worrying Harry the most, though, always ugly and large and etched into his chest, is that Louis hasn’t cried yet.

One of the most prominent traits of Louis’ is how in touch with his emotions he is—how strongly he shows them. If he’s angry, he shouts, if he’s happy, there’s a skip in his steps, and if he’s sad, he cries. That’s how things go.

But he hasn’t let a single tear slip. And in a situation like this one, crying for days on end would be the most understandable reaction. Harry knows he did.

It never happens. It’s like someone screwed on a tap and drained him of all emotion, and it’s the most un-Louis behaviour Harry’s ever seen, and it terrifies him. Harry _wishes_ he would just cry. That he would let it out. Harry can handle crying, he thinks. He can handle outbursts and harsh words and screaming and yelling and all that it entails, but he doesn’t know how to deal with this.

It’s funny, really, because for someone who’s spent his entire life around pain, he knows excruciatingly little about mending it. So Louis keeps suffering in silence, and Harry keeps sitting next to him and having one-sided conversations with him in hopes that his presence will have some kind of positive effect on the boy in the long run. That it at least feels a little comforting for Louis not to be alone. And Harry hopes he manages to convey that if Louis ever feels like crying, he’ll be safe to do so with Harry there ready to do all he can for him.

Harry can’t be there for him like he wants to but he’s there in a way he knows Louis needs. If Harry never loses hope, if Harry keeps this thing up, maybe he can keep the darkness and bleakness at bay.

He just really hopes that it’s enough.

 

~

 

“Are those raspberries?”

Harry snaps his head up so quickly he almost gets a whiplash.

Louis’ voice cuts through the devastating silence like a refined knife’s edge, for the very first time since they were thrown into the Darkness. It’s rough, broken and thin after so long, but it rings like the sweetest melody Harry’s ever heard in his life. Harry is evidently startled by it but Louis’ just watching him with hooded but earnest eyes, and Harry could honestly cry from amazement. The affection he feels for this boy is so strong he feels like he’s going to pass out.

It’s the first time Gemma has managed to send any form of berries over. Harry had just popped one of them into his mouth, tasting the comforting sweet and pink freshness on his tongue before putting the container down to, as always, prepare the food he’s going to give to Louis. So far today, nothing has given Harry any reason to hope that Louis would talk to him.

But here he is now, only a foot or two separating their knees from knocking together, and Harry almost doesn’t know how to handle it.

Louis raises his eyebrows a bit, and Harry remembers he’s been asked a question.

“Yeah,” he just answers faintly. Tentatively, he extends his arm to offer Louis the container.

Louis takes it into his small, thin hands. He looks awfully frail, like one wrong blow could snap him like a twig and it still tears at Harry’s heart, but he also dips one hand into the container and brings a raspberry to his mouth. The way he eats it painfully slowly, in drawn out and thorough chews and a deliberate swallow is unlike him but he’s _eating_ , steadily emptying the container and Harry just lets him. He’d let Louis have anything he has to offer.

When Louis is done, he looks back up at Harry. His gaze is still too dark, too gloomy, too dull to belong to the boy Harry knows, but he doesn’t look quite as deprived of energy anymore as he carefully puts down the container.

“Did you—did you have milk, as well?” he says, and Harry immediately fumbles after the bottle, screwing off the cap as swiftly as he can and handing Louis it. He spends the next thirty seconds just watching Louis down almost the entire thing, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows mouthful after mouthful, and Harry thinks he could probably hug him and kiss him all over his face and hold him close for forever because it feels like a lifetime since he even got the smallest sign of genuine living from the smaller boy.  

Louis softly puts the bottle down and gives Harry a tentative smile. It’s tiny, only the slightest upturn of the right corner of his mouth, but Harry catches it immediately and he swears his heart is blooming.

“What else did she send?” Louis asks, moving closer, and Harry immediately reaches for the rest of what this time’s package contains.

“Um, she sent some sort of fish again, I think,” he starts. “She wrote once that she does it because she imagines that you catch a lot of fish if you live in a forest with lakes and stuff, so that you might like it more. Do you?”

Louis nods, something softening in his eyes. Harry gives him a smile.

“Right. So, fish. And potatoes with that. And she sent along a salad, too, and some bananas. Oh, and yesterday she snuck some chocolate cake in there! I saved it because I thought we could share it if you felt like it sometime?”

At the time they’d received it, chocolate cake didn’t exactly seem to be on Louis’ agenda. It was a particularly unresponsive day, and the fairy hadn’t moved from his lying position at all for hours and hours on end.

But today, Louis is all of a sudden showing interest in food. Today, there’s a chance he might want it.

And Louis does, apparently, because he nods, and licks his lips tentatively.

“I could go for some cake for dessert. But fish first, should we?”

Harry could cry. He could really cry. A trembling puff of laughter slips out of him, and he mimics Louis’ nod fervently and instantly goes for the two containers where Gemma has packed a portion each for them. He hands Louis one together with a fork and a knife, and opens the other for himself.

They eat in silence, Harry’s heart fluttering as Louis cuts up his food in small pieces, taking his time, but still downing it with determination. There isn’t really a need for a conversation, and a conversation would probably feel stilted right now, anyway. After all, what is there to talk about? Making small talk feels insignificant and out of place, and Harry doesn’t want to ask Louis questions he’s not ready to answer yet, venture into topics that might send him back into his lifeless state. Louis might be communicating and eating, but his voice is thin and his hands shake just the slightest around the fork he’s holding, and Harry knows not to push the boundaries.

They manage to finish their meals eventually, rounding it up by sharing Harry’s water bottle between them. Louis’ cheeks are a little rosier, his eyes a little clearer after finally getting some real nutrition into him, and when Harry suggests they dig into the chocolate cake, he even claps his hands weakly in an attempt at showing excitement. It’s not wholly sincere, but it’s something, and Harry takes it without any protests or complaints.

“God,” Louis says when he takes his first bite of the cake, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “This is really good. I’d almost forgotten just how good chocolate is.”

Harry swallows a piece of his own. It’s rich and flavorous, and though standing overnight has made it a little drier than it was when it arrived, in this moment he could swear it’s still among the best things he’s tasted.

“That’d be a tragedy,” he supplies. 

“I thought maybe it wouldn’t be,” Louis continues. “As good, I mean. Just feels… Feels like this place takes away the pleasure in everything, you know? Like you must be reduced to something dark and dreary, too, to function here. Thought it’d be impossible to enjoy anything here at all.”

Harry swallows.

“But the chocolate is still the same?”

“Yeah.” There’s that almost-smile again. He looks soft. “It’s just the same.”

He cuts up another piece of it and brings it to his mouth, savouring every chew, and Harry feels like things might genuinely be looking up.

So he hums in agreement and enjoys it with him.

“Could change the world, chocolate,” he states.

“It could.”

It’s quiet for another couple of moments as they finish their cake, and it’s nice, given the circumstances. It’s more peaceful than it’s been for a long time. Louis has something unreadable in his eyes, though, and though Harry does try to figure out more exactly what it means, he can’t.

His confusion isn’t extinguished anytime soon.

Next thing that happens, Louis immediately rises from where he’s been sitting as soon as he finishes his piece of cake, walking over to his pile of—by now mostly outdated—food, sitting down right by that instead. He then starts… Sorting through the pile. Harry edges closer to watch, and quickly realizes that he’s separating the fruit from the other food, delicate fingers working quickly until there are two separate masses of edibles. The next step is seemingly to grab after his knife, and cutting into the fruit. Harry hopes to god that he’s not planning to eat it _now_ all of a sudden, and is on his way to say that if Louis wants apples there are some perfectly fresh ones to consume, but soon it becomes apparent that Louis has no intention to eat them, either.

He starts to pick out the seeds and pits from every fruit. Apples, oranges, watermelon, peaches and plums and even the half papaya that Gemma sent once in the beginning of their stay here, he’s hollowing and putting the contents in yet another neat little heap. The rest of the fruit he throws back into the slowly rotting mountain of meats and carbohydrates, positioning himself determinedly in front of it.

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles, before letting his bare hands sink into the mouldy food.

Harry wrinkles his nose momentarily, eyes moving up to Louis’ face as he tries to figure out what exactly the fairy is doing.

“Don’t look at me,” Louis mutters. “I’m trying to concentrate. Look at the food.”

So Harry complies, and when he does, his eyes are quick to go from perplexed to awed.

The leftovers currently burying Louis’ hands are… Decomposing. Slowly but surely, they’re broken down into particles, turning into an even and strong soil, and Harry exhales shakily. Once all of the food is gone, Louis lifts his hands and lightly lets his palms smoothen the surface, his head moving in a small nod to himself.

Harry watches with his eyes blown wide how Louis delicately reaches for one of the biggest containers they have and starts transferring all the soil into it, planting all the seeds he collected before. The spirit is slowly starting to catch on, but he does move a single limb. When Louis considers his work done, he opens his own still half full water bottle and pours some over his crops.

He sits back on his knees for a second, inhaling, exhaling, before bringing his hands down and burying them once again, in the fresh dirt this time.

On cue, green, thick stalks start sprouting out of the soil, shooting upwards like they’re gasping for air. The way they move is enthralling, intertwining with each other and thickening into something strong, unbreakable, determined.

Harry is frozen in his spot, mesmerized by the sight. He tears his gaze away for only a moment to look at Louis, who’s sucking his lower lip in between his teeth in concentration and curling his tense fingers to make the giant plant tower even more, and Harry’s known Louis has an effect on nature, but he’s never understood just exactly what he’s capable of until this very moment. Shivers of affection and admiration run up and down his spine, and his heart starts beating so fast it flutters when it finally dawns on him just what Louis is doing.

New life. Louis is creating new life.

The huge plant continues to stretch all the way up to the softly radiant portal, slithering and blossoming in a way that’s strangely beautiful and most definitely intimidating, until it finally penetrates the portal with a last surge forward. Louis stares breathlessly and intently as a stuttering, electric noise emerges from the portal, and the dimmed blue light it’s previously had finally flames up to become the strongly vibrant cerulean they’re used to seeing on a portal.

Once that finally happens, Louis lets out a huge sigh of relief, whole body slumping together.

He’s planned this, Harry thinks. He must’ve. Louis hasn’t been solely rejecting the food—he’s been saving it. And despite his trauma, despite how obviously terribly it’s hurt him and how much of a struggle it’s been for him to cope with the aftermath—despite all of that, he still managed to elaborately plot a way to escape _and_ gather the strength to fulfil it. Harry swallows roughly as he realizes that Louis has known exactly how to get them out of here all along. And the thought never even hit Harry in the slightest.

Harry can’t rip his stunned gaze away from Louis as the fairy finally sits back, brushing his fringe away from his face and catching his breath.

Then he looks over at Harry, gesturing towards the giant stalk, and Harry can swear there’s a shadow of a satisfied grin teasing the corner of his mouth.

“After you,” he says lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow?????? what's happening???? no one knows  
> (i know ;))
> 
> ANYWAY i'm not the happiest with this chapter??? but it's out there and it was,,.. oddly nice to write. kinda therapeutic??? idk it was nice. in the least sadistic sounding way possible.
> 
> as always, kudos and comments make my heart feel warm and bright and it makes me smile the widest u have no idea. i am also available at @tequiladimples on tumblr, ready to love u and talk to u and befriend u if u ever feel up for that xxx thank you so, so, sososososooso much for reading and for sticking to this messy story. i love you so much <33333


	27. chapter 25; tartaros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for fairly some explicit violence mid-chapter xx

Considering the fact that Louis’ entire body is still hurting and his heart is still casting its shadow down by his feet, he’d say he’s doing pretty good.

His hands are trembling like shaky leaves as his fingers grasp the twigs of his giant creation on his way up, heaving his body further and further towards the bright blue soon within reach. Harry’s already facing the portal, stopping to sit and wait for Louis to get up there. There’s a light in his features that hasn’t stopped radiating in Louis’ direction ever since Louis made the first sprouts of the stalk emerge from the ground, something a lot like awe, like admiration, like everything Louis’ ever wanted but really doesn’t need right now.

There’s no self-indulgence about his plan. Louis doubts he can even feel like that anymore. At this point he’s not sure he can feel anything that isn’t fabricated in its core, shallow displays of emotion for the sake of making a conversation flow or the corners of Harry’s mouth perk up a little.

This is about surviving. It’s about getting him and Harry out of here so Harry can start over far away from his mother and Louis can finally settle somewhere that doesn’t remind him of the way his soul’s been broken into tiny, fleeing fragments or the way his back is bare and feet too heavy. Because this place does. It’s roaring with its blandness, darkness reducing Louis’ vision to greyscales and it keeps pouring into him, biting into his flesh, and the chances of Louis ever enjoying things again feel slim and insignificant as it is, but if he doesn’t get to feel rays of sun play of his face for the rest of his _existence_ , he _knows_ those chances will be completely non-existent.

He’s doing it for that tiny shred of light. He’s doing it for the last, whispering piece of hope he’s somehow still managed to keep inside him.

So he pushes the pain and the realness of the situation back just like he’s tried to do this whole time, despite it pressuring his walls, threatening to spill through any possible crack that might appear in Louis’ façade if he allows himself a moment of real consideration.

As soon as Louis reaches the top of the plant, Harry takes his hand and his grip is soft and careful as they step through the portal together. Louis immediately feels the shift in the air when they enter Tartaros again, from grey melancholy to prickling unease, but this time, he lets out a sigh of relief. The feeling of accomplishment soothes his senses for just a moment.

Being in Tartaros doesn’t quite cloud his senses as much as it did when he arrived here the first time, and he wonders if that’s because he’s on the same wavelength in terms of happiness as most creatures living here are now.

“You okay?” he asks Harry, and the disbelief on Harry’s face is obvious as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, of course,” he raises his eyebrows and watches Louis carefully. “Are _you_?”

Louis smiles hollowly.

“If you asked Gemma to help to get us out of here now, do you think she would help us?” he moves on, disregarding Harry’s question.

“Yeah.” Harry swallows. “Yeah, she would.”

“Good. We need to find her. Now.”

Louis makes a move towards the heavy, wooden doors separating this room from the rest of the temple, but Harry puts an arm out to stop him immediately.

“We can’t leave this room, Louis,” he says in a hushed tone. “We can’t get out of the temple without walking past Mo—Eris.”

Harry grimaces at the slip-up, and Louis feels a small ping of pain in his chest.

“We can’t get out without walking past Eris,” he repeats, and even though he does a good job of steadying his voice, Louis can detect the slight tremble underneath. “If we’re going to escape, we need to do it from here. Gemma will most likely come down here in a while, so let’s just wait, yeah?”

Undeniably, he’s right. Louis may just be going on autopilot right now, but even he can admit that he’s rushing into this. So he nods slowly, backing away from Harry, and sits down against the wall. Harry does the same, and so they’re stuck with waiting.

And they do, for quite a while, and Louis is slowly becoming restless. The more time they have alone in silence, the more time he gets alone in his head with his thoughts and his memories, pressuring and clawing to be let out of their locked cages to run freely through his mind. That cannot happen. Louis _cannot_ come to terms with what’s happened to him, because he’s already hurting enough to know that when—he knows it’s a ‘when’, too, no matter how terrifying that is—he does, it’s going to hit him like a tidal wave, and he also knows that the longer he holds back, the more violently will it wash over him and throw him up against the pointy, rough rocks on the shore.

He knows he can’t hold it back forever. But he cannot risk the whiplash right now, right here, so he has to settle for slowly drowning for now, and he sinks a little deeper every minute he spends in his own undistracted company.

Currently, to make matters even worse, he can also feel Harry watching him in the corner of his eye. He holds back a frustrated sigh and tightens his grip on his knees, trying his damn best to not let it get to him, but it’s like Harry’s gaze is boring a hole through him, like it can see under his skin and into his blackened veins. He’s too exposed, and it’s itching his skin like fucking crazy, and it’s suddenly too hard to stop himself from the exasperation that’s slowly prickling his chest.

“I don’t need to be supervised, Harry,” he says, and he has to make a real effort to not snap.

“I’m not supervising you.” Louis turns to face Harry then, only to catch him in a slight frown that only riles Louis up even more. Through gritted teeth, he continues;

“I won’t break if you look elsewhere. It’s cool.”

 “It’s not _cool_ , Louis.” Harry’s voice is strained and it eats at Louis’ lungs. “You know it’s justified for me to be a little worried right now.”

“You haven’t babysat me before so don’t start.”

“ _Babysat_ —this is different than ‘before’, Louis! Before, you hadn’t gotten your—”

Harry quickly cuts himself off then, biting down on his tongue. It makes Louis feel sick.

“I hadn’t gotten my what, Harry?” he just asks coldly.

“Let’s not do this until we’re somewhere safer.”

“I hadn’t gotten my _what_ , Harry?”

“Oh my _god_ , you were—you were just _attacked_ , Louis!” Harry exclaims, running a distraught hand through his locks. “You were—you could’ve died! I had to patch you up so you wouldn’t bleed to death! You didn’t speak for days! You’re really badly hurt and I know you’d love to pretend that that isn’t the case but you _are_. Let me be concerned. Just this _once_ , let someone care about your wellbeing without directly connecting it to your inferiority complex.”

Oh, god, Louis is _angry_. He wants to yell and scream and he wants to break things and he doesn’t even know why, but Harry isn’t getting it and Louis doesn’t want to explain it to him. He doesn’t want to _have_ to explain. He wants to relieve all this frustration in some type of way, and right now he can’t think of any other but to argue. He _yearns_ for a fight.

He doesn’t get the chance to go through with it, because right as he opens his mouth, there’s a sharp gasp from the doorway, and both Harry and he freeze in their spots, petrified for a second before they both turn their heads to see who’s walked in on them.

Gemma stands before them, a neatly wrapped package in hand, and she’s just staring like she can’t believe her eyes—which she probably can’t, to be fair.

“Harry,” she chokes out. “Harry, how did you do it?”

Harry gives her a light smile. There are no hugs or anything, not even a squeeze of a shoulder or a hand on a back. It looks stilted to Louis, who’s well used to showing his friends and family physical affection, but to Harry and Gemma this seems to be perfectly normal, and Louis guesses that makes sense. He thinks of how taken aback Harry’s been every time Louis’ given him a hug.

“It was all Louis,” he says, gesturing towards Louis and bringing Gemma’s attention onto him. “He figured it out.”

And just like that, the fight-to-be is dropped. Louis’ really not willing to—he was looking forward to letting off some steam, but as easily as Harry switched from arguing to painting Louis as a hero, it becomes painfully apparent that Louis was the only one actually angry.

He doesn’t know if whatever’s overcoming him at that is even more irritation or a dejected kind of shame, but he knows that now when Gemma’s here, they need to figure out how to survive again and that whatever disputes he’s longing to have will have to wait.

“Figured out how to create new _life_?” Gemma’s eyes widen as she fixes them upon Louis.

Louis shrugs.

“Plants are alive, too. So I grew one.”

“From _what_?”

“From the food you sent. Thank you so much for that, by the way.”

He even gives her a small smile to express his genuine gratitude then, and Gemma mirrors it tentatively.

“Louis…” she begins then, pausing for a moment as if trying to sort her thoughts out. “I know no words can justify what’s happened to you, but I am so, so sorry. If I’d known more about what I was getting into I wouldn’t have done it. And—and I know it’s too late now, but—just know I’m not only helping to make it up to Harry. It’s just as much for your sake.”

Louis just nods numbly, not sure what to answer. He thinks to himself that he’s glad Harry’s at least had someone around him throughout his life who’s not completely and viciously soulless.

“Where’s the portal to the University?” he asks, deciding to move on to what’s really important. “And how hard will it be to get to it?”

“All our portals are positioned by our Powerhouse, so finding them aren’t hard at all,” Harry says. “Is Zeus held captive there, too, or is he in the temple?”

“He’s by the powerhouse,” Gemma snorts. “Mother doesn’t want him in her home—he’s way too lovesick and gross to deal with more often than necessary.”

Harry curses lowly.

“What does that mean?” Louis asks with a frown.

“On the bright side, it means Zeus is close to the portals since we probably need him. On the bad… Eris is the only one who can release creatures from the Powerhouse cages.”

Ah. Yeah, that’s bad. Louis’ brow remains furrowed as he begins to work on figuring it out.

“And we’re sure the portal isn’t activated without him? It’s not like she could be expecting us to come back.”

“I wouldn’t take that risk. She might not exactly expect it, but mother isn’t stupid, either,” Gemma shakes her head. “She turns off and on and switches portals practically after mood nowadays. And if there’s one portal she’s going to have shut off completely for as long as she can possibly manage from now on, it’s the one to the University. She’s going to take all safety precautions necessary to avoid you escaping, even if the chances of you doing so have been slim to none. And she’s evidently been right to, as well,” Gemma finishes off with a meaning look at both of them.

Louis feels a small rush of triumph at that, despite the situation looking as difficult as it does. Damn straight she’s been right to.  

“Well, even though I’d preferred it if she hadn’t, it’s nice to not be underestimated,” he mutters.

“Oh, no, she’s definitely underestimating you.” Gemma’s blunt and Louis winces a little. “She has no respect for or faith in good creatures. She just knows better than to underestimate Harry.”

Honestly, the words do sting a little, but Louis figures it’s not like he’s not used to them by now. He’ll just have to find a way to use Eris’ underestimation to their advantage—if she thinks lowly of Louis, she’d probably easily buy it if someone told her that Louis was left behind in the Darkness.

Leaving them with him as the element of surprise. A smirk slowly creeps onto Louis’ face as the plan forms in his head.

“So I guess we’ll just have to let her think she’s right.”

Harry and Gemma give him a blank look each, and Louis bites into his lip pensively for a moment before turning to Harry.

“I think I have a plan, and—it might be too much for you,” he tells him cautiously. “I know that I’ll be asking for a lot, but… I think if we could pull it off, it’d work.”

Harry is quiet for a few seconds, and then nods slowly, exhaling.

“I’m with you,” he says calmly. “I’m always with you.”

Louis might still be itching, but in that moment, he allows himself to feel thankful. He knows this whole thing is hard on Harry, too. He knows he’s hurting, too. In this moment, he’s not angry.

They’re going to get each other home.

“Okay.” He mimics Harry’s nod, and then starts laying out his plan. “I—god, I feel terrible asking this because I know how hard it’ll probably be for you—but I’d need you to approach Eris again.”

Louis doesn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty in Harry’s eyes at that, and he bites his lip.

“If you really don’t want to—”

“It’s okay,” Harry interrupts gently. “Keep going with your plan.”

“Right, um. Right. I’d need you to approach Eris. You’d tell her that you managed to get out of the Darkness and that you left me behind. Say something about how you’ve had time to think, how you’ve been foolish, whatever she’ll buy, and then say that you just want to go back to the University. What’s the most important is that she’ll agree to let you go back there. Presumably, she’ll go with you to the portals to ensure that you’re not going to do anything out of line or fuck her over again, and to let Zeus out. When you’re gone, Gemma and I,” he turns to Gemma to make sure she’s still seeming up to help them, “will release the lost souls. Because they’re automatically drawn to the brightest thing around, yeah? Yeah, so probably, without Eris to keep them restricted to only her temple, they should be overwhelmingly drawn to the Powerhouse. They’ll be so worked up they’ll take Eris completely by surprise. While she has to regain control over them and make sure they don’t cause any harm to the Powerhouse, the portal will be free to use.”

There’s a brief moment of silence as the information really settles between them, Louis’ pulse steadily rising with the idea of actually executing it.

“She’s the goddess of chaos,” Gemma says at last. “She’ll probably be delighted at the situation.”

“I think it could work, though,” Harry ponders. Louis turns his head to him, then, and there’s a small, amazed smirk on his face, gaze intense and dappled with a tiny but present menacing glint. “She _will_ be delighted. She’ll probably come up with an even more chaotic counter-attack, it’ll be like a game to her. She can’t help herself but get caught up in those kind of things—which will take even more of her attention off us.”

“Sounds risky as fuck,” Gemma supplies, but she doesn’t sound particularly opposing to the idea.

Harry just nods.

 “It does sound risky as fuck,” he agrees, looking back over to Louis. “You sure you want to take those risks?”

Louis almost laughs in his face. Honestly, he wants to say, he doesn’t feel like he has a lot left to lose, at this point.

“Why, aren’t you?”

 

~

 

The Powerhouse of Tartaros is a huge, steaming volcano, framed at the foot by all its portals. Dents in its gravelly grounds form cages along the way up, suited for the souls and monsters so damaging they cannot be kept in touch with other creatures—there’s Chimaera, the fire-breathing lion-goat-snake hybrid who’s sent up to the oceans of Earth to wreck ships. There are the cyclopes, the one-eyed half giants thrown down into Tartaros by Zeus himself for being too threatening. There is the Sphinx, the half woman half lion whose job was to defeat trespassers using their own minds—and now, also for Zeus. It’s exhaling dark fumes from the top which soak the air with silent dread and creep into your mind and fog your vision, and the way the swirls of black dance down the rocky hill is enchanting in a way, alluring, intimidating, fickle-minded.

It’s a dark place, it’s an evil place, it’s the conceptual definition of what Tartaros and its purpose is.

But a Powerhouse cannot be defined by only one characteristic—it needs to contain everything. Darkness and light can’t exist without the other, and the Powerhouses sustain an entire world, so it must always be perfectly balanced. Which makes the core of the volcano the brightest you’ve ever seen. Down there swim layers upon layers of striking gold and silver, and it’s so warm and smooth and glowing that looking at it will positively make you go blind.

In other words; it’s going to make the lost souls desperately, uncontrollably, absolutely hysterical with need.

Just like they need to be.

They’ve gone over the plan what Louis feels like must be a hundred times by now—really, it’s not that detailed of a plan and Louis is starting to feel the sting in his limbs again and he just wants to _get on_ with things already. They’re standing behind the same door that Louis can loosely remember being brought through on his way down to the Darkness’ portal, waiting for Harry to collect himself and step out into the big hall.

“You’ll come right after me, yeah?” he breathes, barely audibly.

Louis just nods, even pushing out a reassuring upturn of his mouth. They know what to do.

Harry inhales shakily, and then he opens the door and disappears out to Eris. The only thing Louis and Gemma can do now is to stand on the other side of that wall, listening intently on what’s happening.

At first they hear nothing but soft steps, but soon Harry’s rough voice rings through the open space.

“I believe we have some unfinished business.”

Louis counts to 4 seconds of silence before the response comes.

“Harry.”

Eris’ voice is contained, but Louis can’t imagine her expecting this. He closes his eyes and hears only the faint sound of Harry’s feet moving further away from him and Gemma and closer to his mother.

“Eris,” he greets. He sounds steady and calm and like he has it all figured out, and Louis is so proud of him. “I’m sorry to disturb.”

“I’m impressed. How did you do it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough. Where’s your fairy?” Louis thrives on how her voice is gritted out through her teeth.

“I left him behind.”

Eris hums, and there’s a pleased tint to it that sickens Louis.

“No matter how hard you try you can never really abandon your roots, hm?”

Harry doesn’t answer her question, but rather moves on with the conversation.

“Look, I know I betrayed you and that I do not deserve to come back to you—so that’s not what I’ll ask for.”

“No? What is it then that you want?”

Brief pause, and then;

“I want to go back to the University. I ask of you to make that possible for me.”

“Oh, you do? And how do I know you’re not going to tell everyone about this as soon as you get there?”

“Because I don’t _care_ , Eris,” Harry deadpans sharply. “I couldn’t care less about your plans anymore. I’ve travelled so far and I’ve fended for my life so many times already and I’m _tired_. I just want to go back to the University and regain some peace and quiet. I’m not going to get myself involved in this bullshit again by telling anyone if I manage to get out of it. I’m over it.”

Silence. Silence. Silence. Louis holds his breath, and he can tell Gemma does too.

And then, at last, the sound of Eris shuffling in her seat, followed by her voice.

“Very well. I will follow you to the portals and have Zeus reactivate it for you.”

Louis clenches his fist in victory, and he can hear Gemma exhale in relief beside him. So far, Eris is walking right into their trap.

Next thing to be heard is two pairs of feet against marble, growing more and more distant, and then a door opening on the other side of the hall. Louis and Gemma stay completely silent until they finally hear it close heavily and the only thing still making noise are the lost souls’ wallowing.

“How long should we wait?” Louis asks quietly. “How long would it take them to get there?”

“Well, travelling to the Powerhouse will only take them a minute or two, and then they have to let Zeus out of his cage,” Gemma ponders. “So just wait another fifty seconds and we’ll be good to go, I think.”

Louis just nods. He peeks his head out to watch the empty hall, darting his eyes over to the lost souls’ cage. His stomach immediately turns violently at the sight of their long arms and dreadful eyes, and he has to look away before he can practically feel them on him again.

“You take out the souls,” he whispers to Gemma, swallowing roughly. “I can’t—I can’t look at them. Not that up-close, I can’t—”

“Of course,” Gemma waves her hand reassuringly. “You take care of the doors, yeah? They won’t pay any attention to you if the proximity of what they think is freedom is that close. Now, let’s do this.”

Louis runs up to push the doors open while Gemma scurries over to the lost souls’ cage. She pulls down the rod beside the bars, causing the space to open up and making the souls able to run as they please.

“You’re free now,” she calls out to them. “You shall not be trapped to this temple any longer. Go! Go!”

And they go. They flee, they rush, they bolt, their usual dejected moaning turned into something frantic and urgent as they flow past Gemma, past Louis, past the exit, and out into the open spaces.

Everything from that moment on seems to happen in fast-forward. It’s like the moment the souls race out the doors, something in Louis’ entire body comes loose, and every single nerve that’s previously been struck by fear is suddenly on fire, egging him on to go faster, push harder, be quicker. Their time is limited, and Louis’ entire being knows it.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry_.

Gemma immediately takes off, grabbing Louis by the hand in the process.

“Run, Louis! We need to be right behind them or Mother might regain control before you have a chance to escape.”

So they run. Gemma is obviously a lot faster, practically making Louis hover a little above the ground with how rapidly she’s dragging him along, chasing after the spirits. Louis blocks out any thoughts about how he used to be just as fast.

They get there just in time to see Harry, Eris and Zeus at the foot of the volcano, surrounded by fleeting, wailing bodies of the souls, by the portal that’s most likely the one able to take them away from here and put an end to this hell.

Louis is taken aback for a moment by just how enormous the volcano is. He’s never seen one up-close before—the Forest isn’t exactly a focal point for volcanoes—but he’s positive this is the most intimidating one out there, burning hot and shades of flaming red and tragic greys in strong contrast to the blue of the portals below.

“Is it activated?” he yells in a haste as he approaches, and he only receives an excessive nod back. It’s all he needs to pick up the pace even further.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry._

Eris, who’s just understood that she’s being tricked, crumples her face up in an enraged grimace, head whipping violently to stare between Harry, Louis, and the lost souls making their way up the volcano at an alarming pace.

“You fools!” she roars. “You think you can overthrow me with _chaos_?”

She lets out a high-pitched, strained laugh, painful with disbelief.

“You think you can attack me without repercussions?”

She goes on to raise her hands, curling her fingers ominously—and so, the bars of all the volcano cages melt away.

And the monsters are set free.

Louis stops dead in his tracks as he watches them arise, terrifying and hostile, stretching their limbs and their faces setting into menacing grimaces. Louis’ heart feels as though it’s going to beat right out of his chest and into the hands of any of the creatures before him to crush in their sharp-clawed fists. Eris just unleashed some of the Underworld’s most threatening beasts on them. Their mission just got about one hundred percent more lethal.

And chaos, it certainly creates—because when the monsters appear, approach the lost souls with their pointy teeth and powerful physique, the spirits get absolutely panic-stricken.

It only really takes a leap from Chimaera into the bunch of souls for them to completely lose it. Suddenly, their mesmerized attention on the volcano itself is lost, evaporated at the horror prickling their entire beings, and they part in screams as they start roaming around the place so quickly and with so much fright Louis can barely see them until they’re close enough to brush past him, their ice-cold presence sending piercing shivers through him every time. For a good few seconds he’s only pushed back and forth and sideways by the stinging whooshes colliding with his bare skin, and it’s such a mind-hazing iciness that it takes him just a bit too long to comprehend what’s actually going on.

When he finally regains composure enough to at least get a grip on his surroundings again, he throws a look at Harry, and a shaky gasp in punched out of his body as he sees the spirit on the ground with a giant rip in his t-shirt and Chimaera above him, his hands pushing on her jaws apart to keep her from devouring him. The image tears at all his nerves at once, and he immediately forgets about the portal in favour of leaping over to Harry to help him.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry._

He doesn’t get the chance to. Because right then and there, another creature steps in front of him, out of nowhere. It’s towering over him, and it’s huge and heavy and ugly and it has one, wide eye fixing on Louis and Louis alone, and its fists clench at the sight. It’s a cyclops, and though Louis’ read about these creatures in Greek History class, he never thought he’d ever end up face to face with one, and he definitely didn’t think his legs would shake this much at the sight. That last bit he probably should’ve seen coming, though, because now he, a small fairy, is forced to take on this creature quadruple his own size.

He searches feverishly after a way to succeed with that task before the cyclops actually decides to attack him, and he suddenly remembers what Harry told him in Pantheon once—the hideous creatures, the scary looking creatures, are dangerous to your physical wellbeing, but they’re not very bright. You can outsmart them.

The cyclops stares him down with his one, haunting eye, and flings one rock-hard arm down to throw Louis out of the way. Louis just barely manages to stumble forwards enough for the monster to miss him, scraping his knees against the concrete with a hiss. The cyclops stops for a moment, evidently confused as to why his attempt didn’t cause anyone harm. Louis takes that moment to bolt through the gap between the creature’s legs, and his palms sting and he can feel something warm run down his left leg but it’s the last thing on his mind right now.

He immediately turns around so he’s facing the cyclops’ back, looking around for something that can help him. There’s not exactly a lot of time to figure out an elaborate plan, and his mind is racing for a brief solution. He climbs higher and higher up the volcano, feeling with his fingers for something to defend himself with, and at last he finds it in the shape of a pointy rock. It’s only slightly bigger than his own fist, but with sweat starting to trickle down his forehead, Louis decides that it’ll have to do. He grips around it tightly, looking between his weak weapon and his strong opponent, searching for a vulnerable spot.

The eye. If Louis could only reach the cyclops’ eye. If only Louis still had his—

And that’s a path he’s not going to go down right now. He doesn’t have time for painful ‘if only’s.

So instead, he keeps crawling further up the volcano to be positioned more paralleled with the cyclops’ face—and then he takes one of the most reckless risks he’s ever taken. He starts provoking the creature.

“Tell you what?” he yells. “Bet you can’t kill me without using your hands.”

The cyclops gives out a deeply offended roar in Louis’ direction at that, glaring at him with his bloodshot, piercing eye, and then looks down on his two tightly fisted hands for a contemplating moment.

His idea is, as Louis predicted, to full on dive in headfirst in an attempt at squishing Louis against the molten rock.

Right as that happens, Louis shoots up from where he’s lying, grabbing the cyclops’ shoulder to steady himself, and he punches the stone into the cyclops’ eye with the firmest and strongest grip he can bring himself to. The cyclops instantly gives out a deafening roar that rings in Louis’ ears, standing up instantly and starting to stagger backwards as Louis’ nails keep digging into the rough calloused skin of the monster’s shoulder to stay where he is. He’s already feeling sick with the mere idea of having to do this much damage to another living organism, but with a pained grimace and thumping heart, he averts his head and pushes the stone in deeper and deeper, ignoring how it just sinks through into the socket, and lets the cyclops’ screams vibrate through his entire body.

At last, it has the desired effect, as the cyclops takes one last step backwards and then falls flat. Louis yelps and releases his grip of the stone to cling tightly to the cyclops’ neck, shutting his eyes closed for the drop.

When the cyclops’ body hits the ground, it knocks the breath out of Louis’ lungs and he can hear something crack at the same time as a cutting pain shoots through his knuckles. He gasps sharply and wiggles his hands out from under the creature’s neck, practically jumping off of him. He doesn’t dare look at the damage the hit probably made, so with his hands tightly pressed to his chest, he takes a brief look around to focus on the next urgent issue again—that Harry is okay, that Chimaera hasn’t hurt him.

When Louis’ gaze finally finds the spirit, Gemma is by his side and Chimaera is writhing under their stares on the ground. Never before in Louis’ life has he felt relief wash over him at the sight of Harry putting his powers to use, but at this moment, it does so violently he almost smiles through all the pain and exhaustion.  

He wobbles closer to the portal, knees shaky and weak as they try to carry his fatigued body through the mess of souls and steam, until he reaches his destination and allows them to buckle.

Louis leans against the frame of the portal and profusely ignores the pulsating pain in his knuckles as he lets his eyes land on Harry again, slightly startled to find the spirit already staring back intently. He gives him the smallest smile but it probably comes off more as a grimace, and Harry’s already worried face drops into a horrified frown immediately, and then he looks back at Chimaera even more determined than before. With Gemma’s help, he manages to force the monster up the volcano and back into her cage, and though they can’t lock her in again, Gemma sits outside to keep her there. Harry finally looks back to Louis again, making his way over as quickly as he possibly can. Louis keeps his eyes on him like he’s a lifeline, like he’s the sun on his light deprived skin, and though his eyelids are droopy he does succeed to keep his stare steady on the spirit.

Getting through to Louis is not a problem to Harry—like it’s all he’s ever had to do he slides past the erratic spirits around him, dissolves into the air at any cyclops trying to get in his way and reappears behind them again to leave them in utter confusion, and Louis’ face morphs into a scowl when he realizes that though Harry has no problem using that particular right now, he didn’t think to use it during his fight with Chimaera.

“Louis,” he gasps as soon as he’s within hearing distance, and for a moment Louis loses focus because Harry’s _there_ again, his hands on Louis forearms and his eyes scanning Louis for damage and his warmth radiating and sticking to Louis’ skin.

But then his eyes fall onto Harry’s stomach and the big claw mark that’s ripped through his shirt and his skin, and his stomach twists violently when he snaps his head back up to furiously fix Harry with his stare.

 “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you use your thing, Harry, why didn’t you use your fucking spirit thing, you shouldn’t have tried to fucking _fight_ it—”

“I didn’t want to,” Harry interrupts and he speaks rapidly and evidently stressed out, but his hands are moving up and down Louis’ arms in a soothing manner. “I didn’t want you to look around for me and not be able to find me.”

“That’s—” Louis sputters. That’s actually very considerate and Louis would no doubt become terrified in two seconds flat if he suddenly found Harry to be gone, but the mere concept makes him feel like shit because this is a life or death situation and Harry needs to put _himself first_ and his feelings are already contradicting and messy as it is right now, “that’s not what you should prioritize! The plan is to get us both out of here, not—”

“Can this wait?” Harry snaps a bit too harshly, and when Louis flinches he grimaces. “I’m sorry.”

Louis just shakes his head, because, well—yeah. This should wait, Louis supposes. He closes his mouth shut and purses it into something begrudging, but he complies regardless.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry._

“Now,” Harry starts again, “let’s fucking go.”

He opts for pulling Louis up in his arms, and Louis is about to let him—

But that’s the moment his eyes fall on Zeus, standing just a bit away from them. He’s looking around himself in a daze while slowly backing—stumbling—away from the scene. He’s under a charm and the air is thick with the lost soul’s desperation and it’s making everything into a haze so it’s not like he’s doing a great job with erasing himself from the situation, but it does make something ping in Louis head, and he looks back to Harry.

“Wait,” he demands. “There’s something—I’m going to ask something of you that I’ve never asked before and probably will never ask again so this is your moment to really shine,” he says lowly, pulling Harry closer. “I need you to use your powers.”

Harry blinks.

“What?”

“I need you,” Louis repeats deliberately, “to use your powers. I need you to use them like you never have before, and I need you to use them on Zeus.”

He fixes Harry with the most urging look he can muster given his state just to emphasize how serious he is about his proposition.

“I can’t—Louis, it’s _Zeus_.” Harry looks awfully pained, staring right back at Louis with doubtful eyes, and Louis doesn’t have time for doubt right now. They don’t have time for anything but action.

“You can. You need to make sure he comes within reach. If he does, we can—we can take him with us, too. If you can make him come here, we can end this once and for all.”

It only takes Harry a second or two of contemplation before the torn crinkle between his eyebrows loosens up and though he doesn’t look entirely comfortable with the fact, he still nods and stands up.

Soon enough, Zeus’ piercing screams mix with the souls’ melancholic sighing and sobbing, and Louis exhales deeply.

Several feet away, Eris looks between Harry and Louis, Zeus who’s being lured towards the pair in pain, and the souls climbing further and further up the volcano, desperately hoping that the light they can feel the presence of from within the Powerhouse will save them from all this madness and terror. She can’t let Harry and Louis get away, but she also most definitely cannot let the souls fall into the light. They’d damage it—so much darkness all at once rubbing the core of what keeps her kingdom alive would undoubtedly have fatal consequences for her.

So instead of rushing down to capture the pair by the portal, she sends someone else to keep them occupied until she can deal with it herself.

“Sphinx!” she calls out, pointing the animal in the right direction.

The Sphinx is so fast Louis barely has time to blink before she’s blocking their way to the portal, and she’s completely calm and as if cut out of stone, but it only makes her appear even more horrifying.

“Read me this riddle right or die,” she begins, voice smooth and monotone and Louis flinches because somehow the lack of emotion is chilling him more than hostility would’ve.

“Oh my _fucking god_ ,” Harry yells in exasperation, looking around with his eyes blown wide. “Are we really going to have to play a fucking game of Riddle Me This? _Now_?”

“Shut up, Harry,” Louis snaps. “It’s this or fighting her.”

“We have one guess to get her riddle right or we _die_.”

“ _I heard her, Harry_. Keep quiet.”

They both know they’re in no shape to fight a lethal monster right now—Louis just barely got away with the first one, and it drained him of all the physical strength he managed to gather for this mission. Not that his mind is particularly clear, either, but he at least figures there’s a much bigger chance of him guessing the Sphinx into defeat than fighting her.

He turns to her with a sigh, and he can practically feel Harry’s discomfort as he looks around and shuffles impatiently beside him. Louis understands him. He has to try his very hardest to stay focused himself.

“Give us your riddle,” he demands. The Sphinx doesn’t move an inch as she speaks.

“There are two sisters; one gives birth to the other, who in turn gives birth to the first. Who are they?”

Louis can feel the blood leave his face as his mind goes completely blank. He’d foolishly hoped it’d be easy, but it’s obvious that’s not going to happen. Fuck. He turns to Harry, hoping desperately that maybe he is a bit less in the dark than himself, but his heart drops when he catches the raised eyebrows on the spirit’s face, too.

“Are there some kind of goddesses in Greek that might fit that description?” he asks in an attempt to get their minds going.

“Definitely not.” Harry shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. This must be some kind of—like, wind, or water, or something else that’s a part of nature. Something that’s not like us.”

“Right—wait, you gender forces of nature? What the fuck, Harry? That makes no sense.”

“I’d love to discuss the Greek’s tendency to force genders onto natural phenomena with you, but do you not think the timing is a _bit_ inconvenient right now?”

To emphasize Harry’s point, a lost soul whizzes by right between them, making them both flinch and their ears whoosh from its loud whines. Louis admits now is probably not the time.

“So, nature,” he nods quickly, diving back into what’s important. “I mean, there—there are plants that like, clone themselves. But I feel like that would be too simple and even that would be it, there are a few to choose between and we only have one guess.”

Harry’s quiet for a second, biting his cheeks and letting his gaze wander around pensively—as pensively as one can while also fearing for their life, Louis supposes—he looks at the Sphinx, and he looks at Louis, and he looks to the darkness above them, and he looks to Eris, who’s progressively getting more and more control over her lost souls, which means that their time is running out.

“I think we’re looking at it too literally,” he says finally. “I don’t think it’s something that literally births something else. What is something that’s just never-ending and constantly reborn?”

Never-ending and constantly reborn. Louis knits his eyebrows together and narrows his eyes as he thinks, ponders, concentrates like his life depends on it (because, well, it does). Never-ending and constantly reborn. Never-ending and constantly reborn.

Never-ending and constantly reborn.

The words taste familiar on his tongue as he whispers them to himself. It feels like something he’d said himself at some point—it’s a concept that he’s fascinated with, infinites. He values them.

And that’s when it hits him—he _has_ said them before. He said them to Harry, when they’d just landed on Earth and Harry couldn’t face Zayn, and Louis sat down next to him in the sand and they both looked out on the golden sky.

“ _The sun’s always setting somewhere_ ,” he’d said. “ _Nature always keeps going, no matter how messy things get. It’s never-ending, and it’s constant_.”

Time always ticks on. It doesn’t change. The sun always sets, and it always rises in the morning. The day is constantly reborn. The night is constantly reborn. They spring to life from one another at an endless cycle, and it’s steady and reliable and it’s the one thing Louis’ been yearning for the most during his stay down here, the comfort and safety of feeling time pass even when it seems to not.

And so he has the answer to the riddle.

“Night and Day,” he breathes. “It’s Night and Day, isn’t it?”

He looks up at the Sphinx, repeating his answer even louder, again and again until they barely sound coherent, the idea of those two words being the thing to finally reunite Louis with safety blurring all his senses uncontrollably.

The Sphinx doesn’t say a single word, but just moves slowly out of the way with a motionless face, and Louis thinks he can hear Eris shriek somewhere further away. He looks over at where he thinks it’s coming from, and through his suddenly smudged vision he can see the silhouette of a slim and threatening body closing in on them.

_Hurry. Hurry. Hurry._

He can’t even feel fear—it’s like the moment he cracked the riddle his subconscious allowed his body to stop straining itself, to shut down, to rest, and he can’t find a motivation to fight through it anymore.

It’s hard to distinguish anything through the thick haze of enervation currently rushing through Louis’ entire being, but he does feel it when two strong arms sneak under his shaky knees and back, lifting him up from the ground and throwing him over a shoulder.

Harry reaches out and hogs Zeus by the arm with his free hand, Zeus being far too gone to comprehend what’s happening or show restraint, and he throws himself at the portal.

Eris’ furious roar rings in Louis ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK!!!!!!!!!!! it's me
> 
> i'm SO sorry for the long wait and i hope that i made it at least somewhat worthwhile with this eventful n nearly 8k chapter :') i'm always conscious writing action scenes so vdjskvjsjh i hope it didn't suck!!! can u believe that i now only have one chapter and an epilogue left???? i cannot i'm in extreme denial this fic has been the only stable thing in my life for like 3 years
> 
> anyways!!!!!!! i love u all so so much, thank u for reading, kudos and comments heals all the cracks in my weary soul and warms my heart, and if u wanna talk to me on tumblr u can find me @ tequiladimples <33


	28. chapter 26; university of the three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas!!! have a 13k update!!!!!

The day Harry Styles rushes over the big lawn of University of the Three pressing a wingless fairy to his chest and pulling a dazed Zeus along by his arm after being gone for weeks, is a day that will most likely place at _least_ top 3 in the list of the most startling events the place has seen throughout its history.

People are buzzing like streetlights with the news mere seconds after the spirit first whooshes past them, too quickly for anyone to keep up—not that Harry wants anyone to keep up with him. The only thing his brain can process at that moment is that he’s holding their one chance at ending this whole mess in one hand, and a hurt Louis with his other, and he needs to hold on, and he needs _help_. His heart beats so hard and hot in his chest he feels like it’s going to burn a hole through his ribcage and burst out in front of him—he’s dizzy and his limbs ache, and he barely even notices the high-pitched voices and wide-eyed stares fired after him as he runs, up every stair and through every corridor and across the big quad, all the way to the university’s hospital building.

He storms through the entrance mercilessly, probably slapping Zeus with the doors, and tightens his grip on Louis’ unconscious body to not drop him in his hurry as he walks right up to the front desk with more dedication than he’s had with anything else in his life.

“We need to see a doctor. Now,” he deadpans. He can see the receptionist look up, startled by the sudden action, and her face pales the second her eyes fall on Zeus. Harry doesn’t have time for this. “It’s _urgent_.”

“Right,” the receptionist reaches for the phone with a shaky hand and the second she starts talking to someone on the other line Harry takes the opportunity to look down on Louis again. His breathing is faint and his eyelids are shut and lightly fluttering, there’s still a layer of sweat and dirt on his face and he looks so feeble and Harry’s head is pounding.

“Louis,” he tries, because he has to try, and he has to speak, and he has to do something. “Louis. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to be okay.”

Louis doesn’t reply, but he fists his hand loosely in the fabric of Harry’s shirt, and that’s enough for Harry right then—it has to be.

It doesn’t take long before nurses arrive to lead them away, and if Harry snaps at them a little too harshly when they freeze by Zeus’ presence, then that’s justified and nothing he’s not willing to fully stand behind because yeah, Zeus is powerful and important and his presence is a bit staggering, but Louis is _hurt_. It does work, anyway, and they’re taken up a set of stairs and into a room where Louis is pulled away from him, into the arms of a couple of other nurses who start checking blood pressure, temperature, and pulse, and Harry is taken aside to explain both Louis’ and Zeus’ states. Zeus is immediately taken to the de-charming department, and Harry’s told that Louis’ pulse and blood pressure are both way too low, and some of the stitches on his back have come undone and the wounds could be infected, so he’s going to have to stay here for a while. More than that Harry doesn’t get to know before he’s asked to leave.

Harry, quite understandably, does try to protest. Every cell in his body screams at the thought of having to leave Louis like this, but the staff is firm and determined, and Harry supposes that the quicker he gives in, the quicker they will start to tend to Louis. And that’s what’s the most important when it all comes down to it. So with that in mind, repeating it like a mantra to motivate his legs towards the door, he complies.

He’s just about to throw one last look at Louis in the hospital bed and convince himself that everything’s going to be fine so that he can actually turn around without feeling like throwing up, when a new, shrill voice rings through the room.

“Let me through! Let me _through_! _Louis_!”

He knows that voice.

Harry can’t help the loud groan of frustration that tumbles out of him as his head whips around just in time to see Eleanor of Ourania storm into the room, hands trembling slightly and her eyes livid when they land on Harry. It strikes Harry that as far as she knows, everything is just as it’s always been, and the last thing she probably heard was about Harry chasing Louis through the halls and now he’s returned and Louis needs medical attention.

Fuck.

“What are _you_ still doing in here?” she asks hotly.

Her gaze flicks onto Louis’ semi-conscious and fragile body with a horrified expression, and it doesn’t take long for the shock and terror to morph back into fury.

“What have you _done_?” she demands now, and Harry can practically feel her glare burning straight through his skin.

He purses his lips, face nothing but passive and fatigued.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies, and then gestures to Louis. “This one, on the other hand, just saved out entire world system.”

Eleanor’s jaw falls open, searching for words.

If she finds any, she doesn’t get the chance to utter them out loud, because then they’re both physically ushered out of the room.

When the doors close in Harry’s face, his stomach immediately drops and his heart wrenches with an overthrowing kind of anxiety at having to leave Louis in such a vulnerable position, to be as helpless as he is, and he swallows a couple of times around a growing lump in his throat. What’s just happened is slowly but surely making its way up to the surface, but Eleanor is still standing rigid and hostile next to him, and he can’t deal with these emotions in front of her.

So instead, he and Eleanor stand there in loaded silence for a while. Eleanor is still sending him daggers with her stare, albeit a tad more controlled this time around, and Harry stares defiantly back.

“Walk with me,” Eleanor says suddenly. It’s practically an order, her otherwise so sweet voice now stern and demanding, and Harry scoffs.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re going to explain to me exactly what’s going on.”

And with that, Eleanor turns swiftly on her heel and begins to walk through the hallway in aim for the exit. Harry watches her confident and elegant stride for a beat, contemplating whether to actually follow her or to just stay exactly where he is; he’s not quite in the mood for a chat right now, and he’s definitely not in the mood to be the target for a bunch of accusations he doesn’t deserve, which he knows Eleanor will definitely try to pin on him.

But in the end, he still decides to let her have it her way, and he forces some life into his legs to pick up a brisk pace and catch up with her. He guesses the conversation is an inevitable one in a way, and he also, though admitted reluctantly, probably owes her this much.

The talk doesn’t happen immediately, neither of them knowing quite where to begin. In loaded silence they walk alongside each other, through the waiting room and to the reception and out the doors to be met by the shining sun. The blue sky is something Harry hasn’t had time to reflect over during the short time he’s been back, but as he watches it now, it seems to calm his nerves and dispel his jumbled thoughts, if only for the moment. The grass around them is green and the environment is lively, and in some ways it reminds him of his stay in the Enchanted Forest—although that memory feels like ages ago, now.

Because Harry is so caught up in letting the sunrays dance on his skin and rest on his eyelashes, Eleanor is the one to finally clear her throat and initiate the conversation.

“He doesn’t have his wings.”

The statement is simple and frank and roughly pulls Harry out of his serene state. There are a thousand questions and accusations embedded in every phoneme. He doesn’t look at her.

“He doesn’t,” he confirms.

“Is that because of you in any way?”

God. The question might be a justified one, especially for Eleanor to ask, but regardless it makes Harry itch with irritation at the implication that he would ever even _think_ of hurting Louis like that.

“Did I personally remove them? Absolutely not.” He pauses and kicks away a few stray pebbles in front of him. “Did the lost souls remove them on Eris’ command to get to me? Yeah.”

He swallows roughly, his throat thickening slightly at the mention.

“Why would she do that to get to you? Why would you care?”

Harry clenches his fists, focusing only on his breathing and the sharp sensation of his nails penetrating his palms in an attempt at keeping his cool. _She doesn’t know. She can’t help it. She cares about Louis, too._ In the end, it works, and Eleanor’s statement only earns her a humorless snort and a deliberate eyeroll.

“It’s always so refreshing to spend time around you, Eleanor, you do know I love how highly you think of me.”

“I have no reason to think highly of you and you’re deflecting from the subject.”

Yeah, this is hard. This is very hard. Harry would much rather be sitting in the waiting room and count the seconds until he could visit Louis, or examine the perfect squares of the tile floors, or fucking watch paint dry, or just about anything except this.

How does he explain it, is the thing? How does he find words to describe just how much Louis’ done for him in such a short amount of time, how does he explain to someone who’s known him and seen him cause nothing but harm and menace for his whole _life_ that Louis simply just had to waltz in and yell at him and radiate hope and laugh a bit too bright for Harry to rethink every single thing that’s defined his persona?

Harry doesn’t know how to tell her that. He knows it sounds ridiculous, unbelievable, laughable.

“Because as it turns out, you can’t really spend every waking hour in Louis’ vicinity for a longer period of time without starting to like him,” he settles for in the end, still refusing to give her a single glance. He doesn’t need to see how much she doesn’t believe him, not when he’s never meant anything more in his entire life.

“Like, a lot,” he adds, and if he’d speak just a tiny bit lower it’d be just a soft exhale. “I care for him a lot.”

Eleanor doesn’t immediately answer, but Harry knows that her gaze is still steady on him, lingering under a skeptical frown, clearly trying to figure out what Harry’s angle in all of this is. Harry’s skin itches with it.

“So… Eris ripped the wings off of another creature… Because her favorite son cared about them?”

“Yeah. Why is that a surprise to you?”

Eleanor blinks.

“Your mother loves you. She wouldn’t do that.”

The sudden horrified burst of laughter Harry squeezes out makes Eleanor flinch, and he finally looks up at her to really underline how absurd of a concept that is.

“Loves me?” he stresses, eyebrows nearly grazing his hairline in disbelief. “ _Loves me_? Are you serious?”

Eleanor just purses her mouth, and something new takes form in her eyes now that looks extremely close to pity, and Harry hates it. He doesn’t want her pity. He doesn’t want anything from her except her absence.

“Besides,” he continues bitterly, “she disowned me.”

“ _What_?” Eleanor’s steps screech to a halt, voice high-pitched and scandalized. “Why would she do that?”

Harry just glares at her in frustration.

“Are you not listening to me at all? Because I felt things.” He’s just barely contains his voice enough not to yell, and his hands fly to grip around his elbows in an attempt to hold himself together. “I felt affection and tenderness for a nature fairy, and Eris couldn’t stand it.”

That’s obviously the thing that’s taken Eleanor the most by surprise this whole conversation, because for the first time all traces of incredulity are wiped off and completely replaced by genuine shock.

“I thought—she just always gave you what you wanted. You got special treatment all the time. I thought because you were her obvious favorite she wouldn’t do something like that to you.”

Olympians. So fucking naïve. Harry just scoffs.

“Yeah, well.”

He’s not exactly in the mood to explain his life story to her, anyway. It’s not worth it.

So he lets the quiet develop and sink in as he folds his hands and ignores Eleanor’s curious stare boring through his temple, always observing, evaluating, analyzing. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. If this were up to him, he’d be practically hanging off the doorknob of the operating room, ready to see Louis the second he was allowed to. He would not, under any circumstances, be out here with Eleanor of Ourania squeezing truths he doesn’t want to share out of him.

“You really do care about him,” she states at last, slowly. Harry can’t stop an exasperated sigh.

“Solid observation.”

“But _why_?”

It’s an understandable question, Harry gets that it is—after all, what would Harry see in someone like Louis? But Eleanor hasn’t been with them, she hasn’t seen what they’ve seen and felt what they’ve felt and relied on anyone like they’ve had to rely on each other. She hasn’t been there. She couldn’t possibly understand, and Harry couldn’t possibly make her.  

“Because how could I not?” he asks with a weak laugh and a helpless look at Eleanor.

Eleanor doesn’t reply. She seems to finally accept it, though, because she gradually starts walking again, just giving Harry a silent nod and a twist of her lips.

“If you’re lying I’ll rip your teeth out,” she says, and not a single muscle in her face moves to signify that she’s joking, and Harry guesses she shouldn’t be. It’s a fair warning. Eleanor doesn’t have to trust him.

But then she seems to relax after only another short moment of contemplation, her clenched jaw loosening up and her shoulders sinking down from where they’ve been practically by her ears, and Harry takes that as her deciding that she’s okay with this.

When she gives Harry a look over her shoulder, all the previous repulsion has vanished. Harry counts it as a win. They continue walking silently, an unspoken sort of truce shifting the air between them and making it a bit more breathable.

Harry doesn’t have to like Eleanor and Eleanor doesn’t have to like him. But Harry figures he could do with some mutual tolerance.

 

~

 

Zeus wants to speak to him. That’s the only information Harry gets.

Curing the Leader required a full 24-hour long session of intense and uninterrupted extraction of the poison from where it’s coated his veins thickly, and they’re extremely lucky the university is as prestigious and invested in as it is, because if it hadn’t been they wouldn’t have had some of the very best healers in the universes on their territory, and all of this would’ve gone a lot slower.

As Louis still isn’t allowed visitors, Harry’s established the waiting room as his personal occupation until he is. He doesn’t even make time for sleeping, only wandering down to the cafeteria every now and then for food, and he knows it’s not healthy at all. But he’s got the rest of his existence to be healthy. More pressuring matters were at stake here.

Anyhow, this is therefore also where Zeus chooses to approach him.

 

It’s a stilted and honestly, in Harry’s eyes, quite laughable affair; it all starts with Eleanor coming by to practically just announce the Leader’s impending presence and already there Harry can feel the contempt for Zeus’ high thoughts of himself starting to build.

“We can’t visit Louis just yet,” he says as soon as he sees her, thinking that that must be her motive for coming back.

“I know. That’s not why I’m here. Zeus wishes to speak to you.”

Harry snorts, half in surprise and half mockingly, and raises an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t he just tell me that himself?”

Eleanor is clearly not finding it as amusing as he is, as she just closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a beat.

“Just don’t be a dick, okay?” she pleads, face stern, and that’s apparently that because she then leaves promptly, and soon enough Zeus steps in after her. Like he wants some sort of grand entrée or something. What an asshole.

“Harry of Eris,” he greets Harry with an almighty nod, and the way Harry has to clench his jaw so tightly he feels like it’s going to burst should probably be the peak signifier that this isn’t off to a good start.

“Your highness,” he replies rigidly. The words are ugly and bitter in his mouth. “Refrain from calling me that. Eris doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Zeus only looks startled for a second before he regains composure.

“My condolences.”

“It’s okay,” Harry waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to stay, anyway. You wanted to speak to me?”

Zeus nods.

“I do not remember much of what’s been happening this past time, and the memories I do have are hazy and incomprehensible. But I’ve gathered that you and your Forest friend were the ones to help me escape Eris, no?”

“Yeah. I guess we did.” _We almost left you behind, but. Details._

“Right. And I just want to say thank you for committing such an honorable action. You showed great loyalty to me—you abandoned your wicked roots for this cause and helped save our universes and restore balance and peace to us all, and as you saved my life I am now in debt to you.”

The sharp _none of what I did was for you, but sure_ lies right on the tip of Harry’s tongue. He keeps it there.

Part of him wants to get on his highest horse and just reject any favors that Zeus might want to offer—but he’s also not stupid. He knows that having Zeus feeling like he owes him help in any way is an advantage as he could help with, well, just about anything. And that could come in handy right now.

So in the end Harry opts for an indulging wiggle of his eyebrows for Zeus to go on.

“It’s only right that I provide you with an alternative work assignment,” the god says. “I have to say I am impressed with you, Harry. Your perseverance and moral despite your calling is admirable, and if it’s of your interest I think your services as my companion would benefit us both greatly. I’d be happy to fix you a spot in Olympus.”

_Oh._

_Oh, wow._

Zeus’ right hand man. Harry’s face scrunches up a little at that thought. He may have saved the Leader’s life but to say that he is or would ever be fond of the man—or that he’s _loyal_ to him, good god—would still be the greatest lie. That might just be the one thing he and Eris still agree on today. Zeus is influential and headstrong and undoubtedly an important figure, but he’s also hot-headed and rash and incredibly self-centered, and Harry has a feeling that he in the end would end up rather as a slave doing the God’s dirty work rather than a genuine co-worker.

Besides, Harry’s not too big on going from living under the command of one powerful figure whose purpose he didn’t agree with, to living under the command of _another_ powerful figure whose values he doesn’t agree with. He’s had enough of that.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll respectfully decline,” he says finally. “However, I do have some other requests that I’d hope you can help me with.”

He knows it’s bold, taking charge and by himself decide not one, but _several_ favors he’d want from a Leader—but Zeus did say that he owes Harry, so Harry can only be assertive and confident and hope that Zeus is up for discussing how exactly he’s going to repay this debt. It’s not like Harry will refuse a chance to take advantage of Zeus’ powers just because he doesn’t like him—if anything, it makes him feel no guilt at all.

Zeus eyes him up and down once, an intrigued eyebrow lifting slightly. But then he nods and gestures encouragingly.

“Very well. Name it and I’ll try my best.”

Harry thanks every force of fate and then straightens his back again to not lose any of his credibility. If Zeus will sense any form of insecurity, surely he will try to manipulate Harry into something else. Harry needs them to be equals. For now, at least.

“Right. First off, Gemma. My sister. She helped me and Louis to escape and I’m very afraid she’s probably paying the price for that right now. Bring her to safety. Second, Zayn and Liam of Grimm, and Niall of Venus. They also helped us along the way and they’re good friends of mine, and they were left in the enchanted forest when Louis and I were brought to Tartaros. I’d like for them to make a visit. And third—” He stops for a beat, careful to not let it be long enough to shine through his exterior, but when he speaks again he can’t help how the words go just a hint gentler around the edges. “I want to know if there’s a possibility of retrieving Louis’ wings.”

Zeus’ face doesn’t move an inch when he replies.

“As for your first two wishes, I’m happy to fulfil them. But as for his wings—I’m terribly sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. A creature’s wings are deeply personal. It’s completely individual and unique to every being, and therefore we cannot recreate them artificially. As I’m sure you know yourself, they have massive ties to your mental wellbeing, and that bond is irretrievable. A leg or an arm, we could easily replace, but nothing can reconnect the threads of comfort and identity you find in a pair of wings. Louis is simply going to have to learn to live without them.”

_Louis is simply going to have to learn to live without them_.

Harry did fear that answer, but the words still push tiny splinters into his lungs with every syllable. Louis lost his wings, his wings which the bond he had to was so strong and personal it’s irretrievable—and it’s essentially Harry’s fault, and Harry can’t do anything to make it better.

“Right. Of course.” His heart trembles horribly in his chest as it sinks in, but outwardly he doesn’t even blink. “Then I want him to have the best and most efficient health care there is. I want his family to be let onto campus for visits as often as he likes and needs. The best healers will tend to him. If he’s going to learn to live without his wings, I want him to do so under best possible circumstances.”

Zeus ponders his request for a moment, his face still refusing to reveal any of his intentions.

“You ask a lot,” he says at last. Just that. No elaboration. Harry nearly rips a handful of hair out.

“Yeah, I do,” he deadpans. “Because Louis deserves it. It’s him you have to thank for practically everything. He got us out of the Darkness when Eris sent us there. He came up with the whole plan to escape. And he also insisted we’d stay behind so we could take you with us. I merely just followed his orders all along.”

Zeus is quiet for another additional couple of minutes, while Harry focuses all his energy on standing up straight and clenching his fists and biting his tongue to prevent himself from doing anything that might ruin his currently quite positive stance with the god.

And then, finally, _finally_ , he nods slowly with a small, impressed smile.

“He has a good soul. He will receive all the help we can get him.”

The weight in Harry’s stomach lifts then, and he exhales through his nose. Thank god. Thank _god_.

“Thank you for this,” he makes sure to say. Zeus puts a brief hand on his shoulder.

“The pleasure is all mine. Let’s just be glad this whole thing is over now, yeah?”

Harry just nods once more. It’s not over, not even close, when he can still hear Louis’ petrifying screams cut through his thoughts every quiet moment, when he sees Louis’ empty eyes every time he closes his own, when Louis is not with him, when Louis is away in a hospital room after surgeries. It’s not over at all, and a big part of him resents Zeus so much it pains him for being able to feel like it is.

Before Zeus leaves, he stops and eyes Harry one last time.

“And if you ever change your mind about joining Olympus, I’ll be happy to fix it for you. I mean it, Harry—you could be a very useful resource. And your working conditions would undoubtedly be better.”

With that, he leaves. Harry doesn’t move for another fifteen minutes.

 

~

 

Louis’ surgery was successful, and Harry can breathe a little easier as soon as he’s allowed by the boy’s bedside again. He’s still not awake. Harry thinks he’s never looked smaller than he does now.

A lot of different creatures have come by to visit, too—some only out of sheer curiosity and towards them Harry didn’t even try to be nice, but most were people who genuinely did care about Louis’ condition. It doesn’t surprise Harry at all that so many people are concerned—it’d make sense for someone like Louis to have quite a bit of acquaintances and admirers. Most often of all, Eleanor stops by, asks about any changes or whether he’s woken up yet. Harry gives her the same answer every time, but he does make an effort not to snap at her. He remembers the one time the topic of Eleanor had come up between him and Louis, way back in Pantheon, and how offended Louis had been on her behalf when Harry let his own opinions on her seep through. They’re clearly close whether Harry likes it or not, and he knows Eleanor does only mean well. This whole thing must be hard on her, too.

Visiting hours are almost over, and the steady stream of people have finally started to decrease, leaving Harry all alone with Louis all the more. It does hurt to see the fairy like this; unconscious and small and with his honey-tinted hair spreading against the pillow like small strands of sundown.  It’s like the saddest piece of the most exquisite art—so delicate in its shapes and crooked lines, and so gloomy and susceptible in its atmosphere. Harry can only look at him in ten second intervals before something dangerous start burning behind his eyes.

He did this. He caused this. If he’d only controlled himself, if he’d only stayed away and endured Louis’ hatred or maybe been satisfied with just tolerating each other, this wouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have fallen for Eris’ game—he should’ve realized that it was one in the first place—because if he had, Louis would not be lying here. He’d still have his wings.

God, what if Louis hates him _now_? What if when he wakes up to Harry sitting next to him he’s going to be upset or angry or ask him to leave and ever come back? Undoubtedly, especially with how he’s reacted about it so far, it’s taken an incredible toll on him in every way possible, and that on its own will be hard to handle. But how much does Louis blame Harry for what happened?

Imagining a reality where Louis hates him as fiercely as he used to, where his voice smiles towards the whole world and only frowns when Harry appears is physically, bitingly painful at this point. Harry’s not sure he could manage that—maybe if he hadn’t known anything else he would be fine, but once Louis plants seeds in your hearts they never stop flourishing. The ones in Harry certainly haven’t, and he’s too selfish to even think about trying to cut them down.

Suddenly, an “oh!” is heard from the doorway and it makes Harry flinch out of his thoughts. He turns around swiftly to see who Louis’ visitor is this time, and when he recognizes the small person in the doorway his lungs tense up.

It’s Camron.

Camron, the little dwarf that had ultimately led to Harry’s and Louis’ first real meeting. Camron, who only set Harry’s teeth on edge because he was so genuinely kind, Camron, who stands just a few feet away now with a nervously tight grip on his cane, Camron, who Harry was an absolute dick to for no reason at all.

So Harry guesses it makes sense that the dwarf looks endlessly anxious when he realizes that Louis not only already has a visitor, but has _this_ visitor, and a pinch of guilt churns in Harry’s belly.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here. I can come back tomorrow!” Camron says, already making a move to back away slowly.

Harry shakes his head immediately, looking as approachable as he can muster.

“No, it’s okay,” he assures. “Come on in, it’s fine. If anything, I can leave if you want.”

Camron stays quiet for a couple of moments, evidently not expecting Harry to be so civil and understanding, and Harry thinks he probably has a lot of work to do on how people perceive him in this place. But at last, the boy even dares flashing Harry a crooked smile for a second and slowly starts making his way up to the hospital bed.

(Which is good because Harry isn’t all that keen on leaving, really. He would’ve, if Camron had wanted, for the sake of being a good and improved person, but he wouldn’t like it.)

Harry resigns to watching Camron watch Louis, and it starts out quite nicely with the soft expression Camron’s sporting, but then his brow slowly starts to furrow and his gaze starts to flicker, jumping between Louis’ face and his chest and the sheets under him, and Harry knows just what’s dawning upon him. The way he goes from calm to unmistakably distressed is stomach-tightening.

“His wings,” he says, and he sounds choked up. “They’re—are they?”

Harry’s veins clench forcefully and he swallows twice to steady his voice.

“We—the last place we ended up at was Tartaros,” he explains quietly. “I tried to protect him, but Eris had a plan all along. She ordered for his wings to be ripped off. I couldn’t stop it.”

He watches with dread how Cameron’s lower lip starts wobbling, shaking his head in horrified disbelief.

“Why would they do that? Why would they do that to him?”

“Because they can,” Harry just says weakly.

Camron’s eyes are looking glossy and he’s biting his lip until it’s raw trying to make sense of it all. Harry wishes there was something he could say to make him feel better, he really does, but there isn’t and he knows he probably deserves that twinge of accusation in the way Camron looks at him.

“You swear you couldn’t have stopped it?”

“I swear.” The doubt on Camron’s face hurts. “They held me back. Eris had already made up her mind. She set us up.”

“She set her own son up that cruelly?”

“Yeah.” It slips out through Harry’s teeth. The subject is one he’d prefer to not touch on—he doesn’t know why the universe keeps being so determined to force him into facing that no one loves him time and time again. He’s already had to go through his mommy issues with Louis, and again just a day ago with Eleanor, and that’s been bad enough.

But when he processes the horrified perplexity Camron’s displaying, it becomes clear that Harry isn’t allowed to forget quite yet.

“Why would she _do_ that?”

_Oh my god_.

“Because she’s _bad_! She does bad things!” Harry finally cracks, unable to not let some of the stream collecting uncomfortable inside him off, and he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why do people keep having such a strong conviction that Eris is evil only to be shocked when they hear of her doing evil things? She’s malicious, abusive, and self-preserving, she creates chaos and she _loves_ it. She’s always been terrible! She doesn’t care about anyone. So can we now focus on the issues at hand and get over this fascination with the fact that my mother doesn’t love me?”

The regret wells over him like a dull wave as soon as he quietens again, and he can’t even look at Camron as he snaps his jaw shut. His face feels hot. Here Harry is trying to change the dwarf’s perception of him from something bad to something at least tolerable, and then minutes into their conversation he starts yelling at him for things Camron has no control over or involvement in. Great.

“Okay,” Camron says carefully. The deer-like demeanor of his has flashed right back up to the surface and he’s taking a tentative step backwards. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Harry curses inwardly, closing his eyes shut and sighing. Buries his face in his hands for a second.

“No, I’m sorry,” he speaks when he faces the dwarf again. “That was uncalled for. It’s not your fault.”

“I get it. It’s fine. I’d be stressed in your situation, too.”

He sounds completely earnest, and Harry truly didn’t think he could feel worse about this, but the way Camron refuses to give him any sort of real abuse for his past actions makes it _unbearable_.

“You don’t have to make excuses for me. I won’t, like—do anything, if you yell or whatever.”

“I don’t want to yell.” Camron blinks sincerely. “I just want to understand.”

_God_. Harry’s breathing hitches just barely noticeably, and he just scratches his neck and averts his gaze. He can’t deal with that kind of unconditional sympathy. He’d honestly probably kind of prefer it if Camron would be angry—that, he knows how to handle. How does one respond to unmotivated niceness from a practical stranger? Harry has no idea, and his head seems to be swiped blank of any comprehensive thoughts or replies, and so all he comes up with in the end is a weak “okay, well.” He’s pathetic.

Camron seems to notice the unease, however, and benevolently tries to steer the subject back to the real issue.

“So… There’s no way to get them back?” he asks. The pleading glint in his eyes is both relatable and infinitely painful. “His wings, I mean. None at all?”

Harry shakes his head.

“I asked Zeus to fix it, and he told me that wings are so personal to the individual they’re impossible to recreate artificially.”

Camron frowns and nods, seems to dwell on this.

“I guess that would make sense,” he mumbles. “God, poor Louis. I cannot imagine how he must feel.”

What luxury that must be, Harry thinks. What a gift to only be able to feel compassion without having to deal with exact, jagged memories coloring all thoughts in a vastly different and cuttingly raw understanding. What a privilege to wonder what something like this must feel like.

“I am kind of afraid of him waking up,” he admits quietly, making Camron turn to him with a curious head tilt.

“Why would you be afraid?”

“Because,” Harry sighs, “I am so relieved that he’s alive. I’m so happy he is. And I fear that once it all really dawns upon him—which it will, and which is has to—he might not be.”

Camron lets the statement sink into his slouching shoulders and creased forehead, and they both spend the next minutes in silence. Harry lets feathery fingertips travel across Louis’ small wrist, and Camron just watches—watches him, watches Louis, watches their hands, watches Louis’ condition. It’s not an uncomfortable silence; just contemplative. Considering. It’s calm in its melancholy, but it’s not uncomfortable, and Harry finds that he actually hasn’t minded Camron’s presence at all when the dwarf finally stands up to leave.

“I think I need to head out,” he says, straightening his back and cracking his knuckles as a way of shaking life into his body again.  “But thank you—for telling me about what happened, and stuff?”

He lets the final statement turn into a question, as if asking Harry’s permission, and Harry puts on the softest smile he can muster to appear reassuring. He only gives Camron a small nod in reply, and he figures that must do, because after that Camron starts moving quicker towards the exist and Harry turns back to Louis.

And then it hits him; there’s one thing he should say that he hasn’t said. Something that’s probably quite urgent and essential if he ever really want to redeem himself in Camron’s eyes, something Camron deserves to hear, something Harry owes him.

“Camron?”

He turns rapidly to the dwarf who freezes in the doorway, and Harry’s more than learned to resent the cautious tint in Camron’s eyes when he lets them wander back to him.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh.” Harry’s gaze flicks down to his hands uncertainly a few times, trying to figure out how to continue from here. It’s an uncomfortable, unfamiliar position for him still, it’s evident to him in the way his heart pounds a little harder against his ribcage and his throat is a little drier, and he curses himself out for being so nervous about something so simple. “I really am sorry. For—you know. Not just for snapping at you earlier, but for fucking with you in the beginning of the semester. It was a really shitty thing to do and you didn’t deserve that at all.”

Camron just stares at him for a moment, blinking blankly one and two and three times.

“Um, it’s—yeah, it’s okay. It’s fine, I’d totally forgotten about that anyway, it’s all good.”

“You shouldn’t forget about it. I was a dick. You deserved an apology.”

This is evidently the last thing Camron expected to hear from him, and if it weren’t so tragic to Harry to realize just how scared people are of him, it would look comical.

“You’re tougher than I could ever be,” he urges on, daring to smile a little. “You work harder than I’ve ever had to do. And you do it every day without complaint. Is that not admirable? Who am I to try and make you feel bad about it?”

“I suppose it is a little admirable,” Camron allows, face tinting slightly red from the praise and mouth slowly stretching across his face as he looks down on his shoes. Harry’s chest expands slightly. “Thanks.”

And the look they share then tells Harry that Camron really has forgiven him, every trace of alarm gone, and the uneasiness finally disappears from Harry’s body.

“I’ll come visit again sometime when he’s woken up?” the dwarf suggests, and Harry nods.

“Yeah. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

Watching Camron leave, Harry feels a smile slowly make its way onto his features—just the smallest one, one he keeps to himself. Something kind of comes loose in him from the change in the dwarf’s attitude towards him, and seeing it change from wary to joyous is strangely therapeutic, in a way. Harry decides he likes it a lot.

 

~

 

Louis awakes in a hospital bed. Everything around him is soft and spacious and white, white, white. A few rays of sunshine poke him in the eyes as he tiredly forces them open, and it stings just a bit as he has to snap them shut and avert his head.

It’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

The next thing he recognizes is that he’s not alone—someone else is sitting by his bed. Someone with long, soft, brown hair and thin fingers anxiously sliding over the fabric of her dress as she stares back at him, doe-eyed and breathless.

“Eleanor,” he mumbles. A dopey smile slowly spreads on his face. “Hi.”

Eleanor doesn’t reciprocate the smile at all. She looks torn between choking and crying as she just looks at him for a full minute before she can even get any words out.

“To hell with you for doing this to me,” she says finally. “Do you _know_ how worried I’ve been?”

If Louis’ body didn’t feel like it’s buried under solid ground with how heavy it is, he would flinch at her words. Now, he just pulls his face into an apologetic grimace.

“I’m sorry,” he only replies, and it’s weak, but he means it.

Eleanor just shakes her head, and her thin hand reaches out to squeeze Louis’.

“I just—god, Louis, I’ve been so scared. First Stan disappeared, and then you did, and you disappeared _with Harry_ , and I was left here with no way of contacting any of you and there’s been so much speculation and so many rumours and—”

She cuts herself off, and Louis pours all his strength into tightening his grip on Eleanor’s hand back in an attempt at comforting her, at apologizing, at reassuring. Eleanor seems to notice, because the troubled wrinkle between her eyebrows slowly loosens up, and she sighs carefully.

“It’s just been hard. I didn’t know what to expect,” she finishes. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

_‘Okay’_.

Louis’ face scrunches up in a pained expression for a second before he regains control over it, resigning to just pursing his mouth and looking down at their entwined fingers instead. He wouldn’t exactly call the state he’s in ‘okay’. Not when his back still stings emptily like it does and he has to stubbornly push away every thought that comes with that sensation just to be able to keep breathing right.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m so sorry, Eleanor. Everything went so fast and it wasn’t even meant to happen in the first place and we were both stupid and reckless.”

He pauses and their gazes lock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, though,” he adds, and he even dares letting the corner of his mouth perk up a little. “Than what I’ve been during this trip. I don’t think I have.”

Eleanor seems to contemplate think that over, and then she buries her face in her hands with a strained laugh.

“God. I don’t know if that makes things better or worse,” she says, muffled by her own palms. Louis can’t help the tiny stretch of his lips widening another bit, and he looks to his fidgeting fingers.

“I win, by the way,” he says, and though his voice is frail he manages to make it taunting.

Eleanor immediately raises an eyebrow.

“You win what?”

“Harry’s the least scary person I know.” He looks up at her again and pushes a tired grin onto his face. “I win and you lose.”

“…Oh my god.”

“He’s like a kitten.”

“You’re in a goddamn hospital bed after being gone for _weeks_ , and the first thing you want to do is brag about being right about a disagreement we had months ago?”

“He’s such a grumpy baby, Eleanor. I can’t believe I let you talk me into thinking he was ever frightening.”

“He _is_ frightening. Did you know he’s been sitting here with you since the second he was allowed to? I had to fight him for a good twenty minutes to let me have some alone time now. It’s like he’s suddenly grown a heart or something. Now that’s scary.”

Something small and pink blooms within Louis and he sighs softly.

“No,” he shakes his head. “He’s just got a heart. The biggest heart.”

Eleanor just snorts and shakes her head.

“Who are you?”  

“I’m right. Who are you?”

“Louis,” Eleanor states, unimpressed. “Really, though, what has happened between you two? Last thing I heard before you disappeared was that you fought so badly he ended up trying to _hunt you down_ , and now you’re suddenly gushing about how lovely he is? And he’s the same way. I have no idea how you did it, but he’s been the most agreeable I’ve ever seen him.”

Louis shrugs, ignoring the way that information spreads a warmth from his chest and all the way out to the tips of his toes, and resorts to playing around with his fingers to not have to look up and reveal the way his ears have gone all rosy.

“Well,” he ponders. “I—first of all, not to worry you, but I don’t think you can go through the amount of near death experiences we’ve done and feel anything but respect for each other coming out of it. So that’s a part of it, surely. But he’s also—he’s so _good_ , El. He’s helped me, and he’s trusted me, and he’s never tried to betray me or ridicule my plans or invalidate my feelings. He’s been a pain in the ass from time to time, but as a companion? I don’t think I could’ve asked for better.”

“Yeah. This sure sounds like a strict companionship.”

“Shut up.” Louis can feel his face burn hotter.

“Look,” Eleanor pauses, rolling her eyes and sighing in resignation. “I don’t get it. And I wish you’d chosen literally anyone else. But I trust you, okay? You seem to have done something right with him, since he’s bearable now. I don’t get it, but you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

It’s nice to hear her say it, Louis thinks. Not that he wouldn’t stand his ground if she’d been completely and unwaveringly against it, but it’s still lovely to be reminded of what a good friend she actually is. He’s missed her.

“It’s not that, really,” he tries. “It just… I don’t really know either, right now. We haven’t had time to figure that out. So.”

Eleanor just shapes her mouth into an understanding ‘o’ and nods slowly. She doesn’t say anything else, and Louis doesn’t either. The thought of Harry and what kind of relationship they’ll have with one another now that they don’t have to rely on each other for literal survival worries him a bit—while it warms his heart to no end to know that Harry’s been spending nearly all of his time in here with him, he doesn’t know if that’s only because of guilt or closure or something, or if it’s because Harry genuinely wants to keep up whatever they’re doing.

He doesn’t want to think about that now.

“I saw Stan,” he tells Eleanor next, both to break the silence, and because he realizes Eleanor probably still doesn’t know that he’s okay. It can’t have been easy for her, wandering around here with her two best friends going missing without a trace and without any way to tell whether they’re even dead or alive.

Eleanor’s eyes immediately go comically wide, first in terror.

“In _Tartaros_?” she nearly whimpers.

“What? No! In Pantheon,” Louis is quick to clarify.

That does make all the difference and she grips onto the sides of the hospital bed in eagerness.

“You did? Like, you met him? Is he okay?”

Louis just smiles, nodding.

“Yeah. He’s completely safe. He made it home on time.”

Eleanor’s tense body visibly deflates at the information, and a stupid smile takes over her features for a second.

“Really?” she speaks on an exhale, and her hold on Louis’ hand tightens just the slightest.

Louis nods.

“We got to speak for a bit. I asked him if he wanted to come with us. He declined. Which was smart of him, maybe.”

The more he speaks, the more Eleanor’s brow furrows again, clearly perplexed now.

“Come with—did you not stay in one place all of the time?”

Louis fidgets uneasily under her gaze.

“No? We sort of freelanced for a bit. Figured we could explore some of the worlds—I always meant to settle as soon as we landed somewhere safe, but then something always happened that made us have to keep travelling, and it looked like we were finally going to stay in the Forest, but then Harry’s sister came along and physically dragged us to Tartaros and…” he trails off, the twinge in his lungs alarming him that he’s getting to close to that one thing he can’t afford to think about.

“Louis! What were you thinking? You could’ve—you could’ve _died_! Oh my god!”

“I know, Eleanor! I know it was stupid, but—I’ve seen so many things!” He looks at her pleadingly, throwing his hands out with the little strength he can muster. “I’ve learned so many things and I’ve met so many people! We made wonderful friends! I can’t regret it. I just can’t.”

Eleanor looks at him skeptically and her eyes start to drift to the empty spots of sheets by his shoulders.

“Not even considering—?”

As soon as Louis’ brain registers where she’s about to go with that, his head whips in her direction violently and gives her a look that can only be described as warning. _Don’t go there_.  

Luckily, Eleanor takes that hint, and bites down on her lower lip to silence herself, watching him with a pained expression.

Maybe Louis will tell her about all of it one day, their entire journey from start to finish. One day, when breathing doesn’t hurt and he can throw himself into it with the same amount of enthusiasm as he usually does when it comes to storytelling, he’ll tell Eleanor everything. But now isn’t the time—there’s a dark, ominous cloud hanging over the end of that story in a way he doesn’t ever want to relive or retell or revisit in any way at all. And you can’t tell a story and just leave out the ending. No matter how much Louis would want to.

They’re both startled out of their silence by a sharp gasp coming from behind Eleanor.

Louis snaps his head up to see who the sound came from, and it feels like a slap to the face to suddenly see Harry stand there in the doorway. The white light is bouncing off the walls, illuminating his skin and dancing in his locks and softening his edges—he looks safe and clean and sleepy and it’s such a sharp contrast from the sweat and pain and stress and aggressive Tartaros shadows that Louis at first barely knows how to process it.

“You’re awake?”

Harry just breathes it out, his voice so tender Louis can see Eleanor shifting uneasily from the corner of his eye. There’s a sort of wondrous haze in the air, those first seconds as Harry and Louis just look at each other and trying to grasp the concept that they’re both alive.

And then Harry snaps out of it, shaking his head slightly as his eyebrows knit together and gaze widens into something affronted and outraged.

“You’re _awake_?” he repeats, with much more fervor this time. He immediately targets Eleanor, glaring at her. “You talk me into leaving _one time_ and that time ends up being the one he wakes up? That’s the first and last time I’ll ever listen to you.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes.

“I did you a favor.” She turns to Louis with an assuring nod. “I did. I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s been sitting here for as long as he’s been allowed to, and that’s not counting the time he’s spent in the waiting room. That’s nearly three full days, so I forced him to go and take a shower. Tell me that’s not charity work right there.”

“You’ve been talking about me, Eleanor? That’s so sweet of you.”

“Only bad things.” Eleanor flashes him a sugary smile.

Harry purses his lips defiantly and just dignifies her with an eyeroll, before making his way over.

“I really missed the whole thing,” he mutters, “I cannot believe he could’ve woken up to my glowing complexion and instead he had to immediately deal with your tragic face. This is a travesty.”

Eleanor just exhales deeply, and Louis can’t help the small, amused smile that overcomes him.

“This is who you’re so fond of,” she states with a raised brow at Louis.

Louis can’t even answer her with anything but a dopey smile. It has Eleanor wrinkling her nose.

“Well, then,” she says, gracefully lifting from the chair and adjusting the skirt of her dress. “I’ll let you two talk, I suppose.”

And so, Louis waving her goodbye, Eleanor waltzes out of there. Harry’s still standing in the doorway, and even as she passes him he keeps his eyes only on Louis, and they’re alone at last.

The first thing Harry does, before starting to approach Louis, is to purse his mouth to the side and give off a little shrug.

“So we made it out,” he states.

“We made it out,” Louis agrees, nodding in small motions. A smile is nipping on the corners of Harry’s mouth and Louis can feel his own lips stretch just a bit.

The situation is just so _bizarre_. It’s calm, and it’s bright, and they’re both safe and have nowhere important to be and nothing life-threatening to do, they were both on the verge of death just a couple of days ago and here they are now, in the serenity of the everyday. Everything feels so, so small.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, daring to flash him a smile Louis could almost swear is a tad nervous. He instantly reciprocates it in hopes that it’ll remove whatever worries the spirit is having.

“I mean,” he figures, “I’m alive. My knuckles hurt a bit.”

“Yeah. You broke five of them.”

An image of the enormous cyclops falling to the ground and Louis’ small hands disappearing under its body flashes through Louis’ head.

“Hm. Makes sense,” he mumbles. He doesn’t say anything about how his back feels a warm sort of numb and stingy at the same time, and Harry doesn’t ask. It’s the best gift he could give Louis right now.

“And how are you?” Louis instead says.

Harry shrugs.

“No major harm done. I got you and Zeus to the hospital and after that I’ve been here most of the time. Had to endure Eleanor, though, which is a pain in itself.”

“You know she means well.”

“That’s what I tell myself at least fifteen times a minute whenever we speak to keep civil.”

Louis hums appreciatively. “I taught you well.”

Harry’s slowly made his way over to Louis’ bedside as they spoke, and he sits down in the same spot Eleanor was just a few minutes ago, his lower lips between his teeth and his back slumped tiredly. Louis just lets his gaze wander over his face, over his chest and arms and hands for a while, really processing that he’s here, right in front of him. That he’s safe and sound and that he’s been by Louis’ side since they got back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the fairy says lowly. It feels like an enormous confession, that tiny phrase, and when Harry looks up at him with his eyebrows slightly furrowed Louis must look down.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“There are hundreds of reasons,” Louis insists. “You could be hurt, you could be taken away by some scary Greek authorities,”—Harry snorts—“you could choose to rather go to class or catch up with friends, or—or anything, really. But you’re here and I’m really glad you are.”

Louis thinks he’ll probably never get tired of watching the poetic shift of Harry’s face when it goes from incredulous to fond.

“I’ve been worried out of my mind,” the spirit says, shaking his head. “I couldn’t ever just—do you think after all this time I wouldn’t care for you just because our lives aren’t at stake?”

Louis knows it’s not at all what he should be focusing on, but his brain totally snows in on the ‘care for you’, playing it over and over and over and over until he’s dizzy and his insides feel wrapped in cotton.

“I mean,” he muses. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I figured maybe it’d be easy for you to just go back to your university life and settle down and not be concerned with how I’m doing all the time. Because that must be quite draining.”

“I don’t want to go back to my university life, are you mad?” Harry looks at him like he’s grown three new pairs of eyes. “I don’t even like any of the friends I have here. I don’t want everyone to be scared of me. I couldn’t give less of a shit about everything here, except for whether you’re okay or not.”

Louis has to fight to keep his breathing from going erratic and his chest from fluttering too quickly at the undisguised bluntness prickling Harry’s words and face. The flutters clash with having to hear the word ‘okay’ yet again, though, and he ends up more jumbled than anything, really.

“Well. I don’t…” Louis entwines his own fingers, suddenly overly aware of every limb. “I am alive. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

The crease between Harry’s eyebrows tells Louis loud and clear that the spirit doesn’t agree.

“Louis, I want you to feel _good_. Not just alive.”

“And I’m very sorry but I don’t think that’s quite possible right now so I don’t want to disappoint you, and now if we could please drop that subject?”

It’s as near snapping as he has the energy to go, and Harry clearly notices because he doesn’t push it further. Louis doesn’t know if he should be thankful because he really does want the subject to be dropped, or to be annoyed that Harry gave up because Harry always pushes him and if he’s not right now that must mean that he thinks Louis is too weak to take it, and that’s kind of hurting his pride.

“Apparently it was a janitor,” Harry decides to go for instead, and Louis in turn decides that he’s definitely more beyond grateful for the change of topic than concerned with his pride. “That was in the portal room of that door we fell through? Guess he didn’t get the memo that the place was off limits or something. He’s fired now, I think.”

Louis makes a disapproving sound.

“They shouldn’t have done that.”

“Shouldn’t they? He did after all put student lives at risk.”

“Yeah, well, he also made me undespise you, so.”

Harry’s grin grows slowly, and that’s what Louis wants to see. It’s all he wants to see forever and ever, it’s been way too long of seeing dimness and agony etched into Harry’s smooth features and the way he looks like a child again now, lines on his face completely cleared from troubles, is making it so easy for Louis to just forget, for a moment. Right now, there are only the two of them, and they’re shiny.

“Undespise is not a word,” Harry points out. “And from my experience you seemed to quite enjoy despising me. Seems like it relieved a lot of tensions.”

“Please,” Louis scoffs. “Firstly, I know my English, and second, I can’t be around that kind of negativity constantly. All that despisivity was extremely bad for my complexion in the long run.”

“Despisiv—now you’re just taking the piss.”

“Don’t fight me on this or I might start despict you again.”

“ _Louis_.”

“Really, though, is it possible to get a hold of his address? I need to write him an elaborate thank you letter.”

It’s supposed to still be banter, but the way the crinkles by Harry’s eyes go just a little bit softer around the edges and his dimples grow a little deeper, the playful mood fades into lovely sincerity. Louis supposes he had that coming.

His face flushes as Harry doesn’t say anything at first, but when he only utters a small, and sincere, “me, too,” Louis can hear his own heart beat faster. The words roll off the spirit’s tongue too velvety to be casual, and Louis has to avert his gaze to hide how flustered he feels all of a sudden. He wants Harry to say something more—there are so many things they still need to speak out loud, that Louis wants to tell Harry, about them and their feelings, and now would be the perfect time.

But Harry doesn’t say anything else, rather resigns to simply looking down on his lap and biting the inside of his cheek, and Louis tries to ignore the small ping of disappointment. He supposes he could go first himself, but it’s like there’s a physical barrier snuggly fitted around his vocal chords and whenever he considers just saying fuck it and clear the air, it clenches until Louis can’t breathe with how heavy the words are.

In the end, Louis realizes they’ve both been quiet for far too long to the point where it’s probably bordering on uncomfortable, and his head immediately bounces back to life and vigorously pushes back all the sentimentalities in search for something, anything, to say to not let it develop into something stiff.

“So.” He clears his throat. “What have I missed? Things still the same around this place?”

Harry shrugs. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been in here.”

Well, that reminder isn’t exactly helping Louis to suppress his emotions. Knowing that Harry’s been that adamant about being near him, that he’s been sitting by Louis’ bedside and waiting for him makes Louis feel so full of affection he kind of wants to kiss Harry right now. He doesn’t, because they’re supposed to talk this through, they need to get used to the environment, to the calm, to the safety before anything else. But he really, really wants to.

“How’s Zeus? Has he recovered?”

“Yeah,” Harry hums. “They took him to the de-charming department pretty much immediately. Guess when you have a Leader himself stumbling into your hospital, that’s going to be prioritized. He came by yesterday, though, and we spoke for a bit.”

“And you managed to be civil then, too?”

“More or less.” Harry snorts. “He offered me a new position, can you believe that? As his assistant, or whatever. He called it a companionship but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be.”

Louis whistles lowly.

“Zeus offered you work? Did you say yes?”

“Of course I didn’t. The only good thing about being from the Underworld was to not have to deal with Zeus. I’m not going to start doing that now just because he feels a bit inferior about needing someone else to save his own ass.”

It’s clear Harry’s already made up his mind about it, and Louis purses his mouth to the side in thought. While it’d make sense for Harry not to be the biggest fan of Zeus—Louis isn’t either, to be honest, and he does wonder if anyone actually is—the fact that Zeus is willing to offer him a work spot in Olympus is a big deal, and in the position Harry is now, just having been thrown out of his home and family, he could probably do well with staying on someone like Zeus’ good side.

“It might do you good, though,” he suggests. “Working in Olympus.”

Harry raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Could you honestly see me doing that? Buddying it up with Zeus?”

“Not with Zeus, maybe. But, I don’t know. With someone else up there. Eirene or something.”

“Eirene?” Harry sounds doubtful.

“Well, don’t you have any gods or goddesses who focus on balance of some kind? Like—justice, or whatever. I think that’d probably fit you really well.”

Harry lets his fingers wander contemplating along his jaw. Louis follows them with his eyes, in awe at how smooth the skin there is and how it moves when he clenches it.

“If it meant that Eris could be served some justice, I’d do it,” the spirit hums, and there’s a heat buried underneath his calm demeanor when he mentions her name. “I just… I really want her to hurt. For _real_.”

Louis swallows. He does, too.

“Understandable,” he just offers.

“She’s the one who made this all happen in the first place, did you know?” Harry goes on. “She told me. She used Zeus’ powers to fuck with the portals just so we’d end up where she wanted. It was all a game to see how long we could endure each other’s company without, well. Killing each other.”

“Yeah,” Louis sighs heavily. “I heard her. Your siblings waited outside that door for quite a while.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the air turning thinner in Louis’ lungs with the, once again, proximity of the one conversation he absolutely does not want to have.

“Well,” he starts again at an attempt at lightening the mood and saving himself, frailly nudging Harry’s arm. “Her plan backfired big time, didn’t it?”

The smallest spark of a smile flashes by in Harry’s eyes, and Louis feels nothing but victory.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re still the most infuriating person I know.”

“Asshole.” But Louis can’t even keep a straight face. “Not infuriating enough to get rid of me, though, was I?”

“Not my fault I had you keep you around to save my ass.”

“How is that not your fault? You obviously have to be the one lacking in skills if you need to depend on someone else to save you.”

“I don’t think it’s my fault that you’re so bloody brilliant you single-handedly saved all universes.”

Louis groans to distract himself from how much his pulse keeps quivering.

“Did you have to turn that into a compliment? Now I look like a dick.”

“You always look like a dick. You’ll manage.”

“On my very _death bed_ , Harold, you choose to abuse me like this.”

“This is not your death bed.”

“On my very _hypothetical death bed_ , Harold—”

“Oh my _god_.” Harry swats him on his arm and tips his head backwards with the biggest grin Louis’ seen on him in what feels like forever, and it’s a healing sight. “You’re so fucking annoying. Why am I even here again?”

“Because I’m a delight and you’re a liar.”

Harry’s gentle laughter ends in a despondent sigh.

“Fuck, I was supposed to be mad at you,” he says deprecatingly. “I had a whole speech.”

Louis frowns, but it’s evident Harry is, in fact, not actually mad, so he figures it can’t be that serious.

“Why would you be mad at me?”

“Because you risked your safety so outrageously. I mean, it was brilliant, it really was, I could’ve never come up with the plan to fast and then grow a giant plant from the soil and then going to fight some of the Greek’s most lethal monsters with no fuel—but you could’ve let me _help_.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Why in the world would I’ve done that?”

“Because that way I wouldn’t have had to be as goddamn worried about your eating habits! And I could’ve saved food, too, we could’ve both done it so it would’ve gone quicker and you wouldn’t have had to pull that whole weight by yourself and exhaust yourself like you did.”

“Oh, please.” Louis snorts. “With the way I did it, you at least had your full strength. If we'd both saved up food, we would also both be weak for the escape, and then we probably wouldn't have made it. I needed you to be capable of doing what was required. And besides...”

He averts his gaze as he continues speaking, much lower this time.

“Besides, I didn't want it to go quicker.” He fidgets with his hands, and tries to stop his heart from trembling. “I wanted—I _needed_ —I needed more time than that. I needed time.”

Harry doesn’t answer this time, but Louis can feel his eyes and the twinge of ache they’re expressing, and he keeps his gaze stubbornly on his own hands. When he feels the tension in the room shift, he wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Lou, about that.”

There’s a frightening change of tone, and Louis instantly looks up at him. Harry’s posture has something more uncertain in it this time, cautious, careful, his eyes soft but guarded as if he’s testing the waters to see how far he can go before Louis pulls away, and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

His suspicions are confirmed when he finally opens his mouth.

“I think—you should talk to someone. About what happened to you.”

Louis’ lenient expression drops instantly into something hardened, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he can practically feel the brick walls build themselves up around him.

“That’s not necessary,” he says resolutely.

“It is, though.” Harry’s voice is so attentive, so slow, and Louis hates it. It’s like Harry’s really thought this through, too, planned exactly how to approach Louis to get his way, which makes it even worse.  “There’s a great deal of things a creature can deal with on their own, but this is not one of them.”

“Isn’t that my decision?”

“It is,” Harry agrees, “but I think you’re making the wrong one out of fear.”

“Wow. Maybe your next job should be as an oracle.”

Louis does absolutely nothing to hide his dry contempt and judging by how Harry just focuses his gaze on Louis’ steadily, he isn’t impressed.

“You can’t just pretend nothing happened to you. It won’t just go away because you want it to.”

He can feel it—that goddamn itch once again running along his limbs and pooling in his fingertips the more Harry speaks, and he clenches his fists tightly to not lash out. Harry doesn’t get to bring this up. He doesn’t get to talk about it like he knows all about what Louis needs, he doesn’t get to suggest ways for Louis to cope, he doesn’t get to force Louis to think about it and remember it and face it. That’s not how this works.

“Don’t act like you know what’s good for me better than I do.”

“I’m not trying to,” Harry’s eyebrows knit together momentarily, hurt flashing by in his eyes. “I just don’t want this to consume you.”

“It’s not going to consume me if I don’t fucking think about it.”

“Yes, it is, Louis, trust me. It’s _shit_.”

“Just because it was for you doesn’t mean it has to be for me. You don’t get to use me as some kind of redo of your own traumas.”

That one is harsh. Louis knows it was harsh, but with the way Harry keeps talking to deliberately and with such confidence is clogging Louis’ airways and punching at his ribcage, and Louis just needs it to stop.

And it does, with that. Harry falls silent immediately, just observing Louis for a moment with something new and unreadable in his expression.

“That’s what you think I’m doing?” he finally asks thinly.  

No. Not necessarily. But Louis opts for a blasé shrug and a diverted gaze, relieved at having changed the direction of the subject for at least a minute. Harry doesn’t speak again for a long time, and Louis treasures and resents the silence.

Of course, nothing seemed to be able to permanently distract Harry from the issue at hand, because he starts talking again after a serious moment of contemplation, and his voice is softer and more determined at the same time. Louis feels like imploding.

“I’m not. You need to know I’m not, I promise. I just—you loved your wings. You loved them more than I did mine, they were so obviously your favorite thing, they represented so much of your person. And that _must_ hurt to lose no matter how little you want it to be true right now, and for that you need to mourn. You need to _mourn_.”

Louis hears every word Harry says, but he doesn’t want to listen. It’s like every sound hanging off of Harry’s tongue ignites every single nerve in his body and they’re all shouting “ _no! No! No_!” and covering their ears and Louis is one tiny step away from doing the same.

But he can’t do that, he knows it would prove Harry’s point. So instead he just keeps staring him down with cold eyes.

“With all this this talk about you telling me what I need instead of listening to me you’d almost think you were a doctor. Or someone else that’s actually qualified to do it.”

Harry tips his head back in a desperate sigh.

“Louis, I’m serious! You won’t be able to ignore it forever.”

“Try me.”

“You have to try to take my word for this, Louis. If you’re going to keep pushing it back it’s going to turn your insides into something ugly and you’re going to be angry all the time and you’re going to want to hurt people and it’s a miserable fucking life. It’s miserable.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure life is going to be fairly miserable from now on no matter how I choose to handle it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Louis. I don’t ever want to tell you what to do, but this _isn’t good for you_.”

“Oh my _god_ , do you not think I know that?” Louis finally hisses back, looking up to furiously meet Harry’s aggrieved gaze with a sort of cold desperation as he feels his pulse steadily pick up speed and force in his chest and his limbs and his ears and behind his eyes. “Do you not think I am fully aware of what I’m doing? I am. I know I can’t suppress things forever, but I can _fucking_ try, Harry. I have to try. What else am I supposed to do? Come to terms with things? Accept the fact that I’m—?” a hysterical chuckle tumbles out of him. “Just—just stand in front of a mirror and look at my bare back and say ‘yeah, I lost the one thing I thought I wouldn’t survive losing, and that’s fine´? It’s not fine. How could I ever be okay by accepting it as a part of my life that they took away the thing about life that I love the most?”

His voice breaks for just a second, a strangled sort of sound and he bites down on his lower lip so hard he almost draws blood. There’s a burning wetness pressuring his waterlines, and Louis doesn’t know how to prevent it, now.

“I’m afraid that if I start thinking back on that moment I’ll never stop. I’ll never stop feeling it, I’ll never stop seeing it, I’ll never be able to stop dwelling on the past and I’ll get stuck. It’ll haunt me every second of every single day and I can’t live like that, Harry. I won’t survive something like that. How could anyone ever do? How could anyone ever ‘come to terms’ with the fact that they’ve been stripped to the bone of everything they’ve ever known? How could anyone—I thought I would die! I wanted to die! How do I shake something like that off? I can’t _do_ _that_.”

Harry’s just sitting completely silent while Louis’ rant grows more and more frantic, letting him empty all his thoughts and fears and frustration and confliction and transfer it from the corners of his heart and into the open air until there are no more words left that aren’t being sucked into tiny particles and turned to nothingness somewhere far, far away from where they’ve been nagging at Louis’ insides.

“I’ll never fly again,” he finally says, and it comes out way too broken and way too low. “I’ll never fly above the forests in springtime and watch the trees shift from grey to green. I’ll never graze tree tops with my fingers and feel the buds form and bloom. I’ll never rise with the sun until we both reach the clouds just because I can. I’ll never sweep across the open ocean.”

He looks right at Harry as the weight of his words really dawns upon him.

“I’ll never fly again.”

He’ll never fly again.

_He’ll never fly again._

And so, Louis snaps like a frail rubber band, and a shiver runs along his entire spine once, before he hiccups, and then splutters out a single, strained sob, and then tears start to stripe his cheeks. They’re warm and wet and they make his dry skin sting but he can’t even reflect on that because his heart suddenly feels like it’s breaking in a thousand different pieces all at once, and this; this is all he’s been so scared of. This is everything he’s wanted to avoid, and how quickly he snapped is not only embarrassing, but also terrifying because how long did he plan to live that close to the edge of falling apart?

He doesn’t know, and so he cries, and cries, and cries.

Harry immediately springs to action, fitting himself into the bed and wrapping Louis up in his warmth, pressing Louis’ face into his chest before Louis even has a chance to react. He runs hands through Louis’ hair slowly and soothingly, and he rocks them just the slightest from side to side.

Louis lets him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaAAAA look 10k into this chapter i realized that i would not be able to fit all i have left into one svbjs so there's gna be one more chapter after this!! and then an epilogue!! and then it's Over!!
> 
> (am i the tiniest bit relieved bc i don't have to face that this is coming to an end yet? possibly.)
> 
> also, sorry for the late update. idk how to feel about it bc there's a lot happening pretty quickly, but i hope it feels somewhat natural and interesting xxxx i've already started a lil on the next chapter too, so there's that :')
> 
> anywaYS thank u so much for reading and sticking with this mess, kudos and comments makes the sun glow brighter in this dull winter darkness, and if u want to stop by for a chat, my tumblr is @tequiladimples xxx i love u all so much


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